Long Forgotten
by may-lotus
Summary: An Autobot Femme 'reawakens' to the world of Beast Wars, where past and present must be united to ensure survival. The first installment of my 'A Divine State' series. R/R!
1. Awaken

Author's Comments:  
  
Characters, other than those self-inserted, are property of Hasbro, yaddy da…  
  
Maybelle's history, takes place after the Rebirth, but Arcee never became a headmaster. Personally, I'm not that fond of the whole Arcee-Daniel bond. The fuzors are also included, along with Terrorsaur and Scorponok who never died in the events of the Aftermath. For those of you who crave action, this first installment may start out somewhat, but it's necessary to establish the plot and some relationships among the characters. I hate to disappoint, and guarantee that there will be more action, and a faster moving story to come!  
  
Side note: the [ ] brackets enclose internal dialogue, thoughts, and conversations  
  
******************************************************************  
  
Darkness, it was endless and enveloped all life created in its path. The infinity of it surrounded her, and time passed beyond her shrouded existence. Worlds were created, destroyed, rebuilt, perishing. But hope persisted, even if it was in the insignificant form of a single spark.  
  
She awoke with a start, not remembering how long she had been offline. Confused and vulnerable, she found herself sitting in the charred remains of a status pod. Is it over? Desperately, she scanned her surroundings for life. Comrades, enemies, hope above all else. When she found none, her spirit fell. The harsh tundra environment seemed to mock her, the blizzard threatening to swallow her into the bland surroundings. She was about to leave the pod, when she saw the blinking icon of a stored program. It was labeled as a memory file, and judging from its creation date, she was very overdue to play it. Carefully, she attached her visual cable into the working remains of the pod.  
  
[Play]  
  
**************************************************************  
  
"This is crazy, Optimus." A large green robot paced impatiently across the deck  
  
of a ship. His irritation was evident to all who knew him.  
  
"Springer, you know this is the only way that the Decepticons won't be able to identify her. She houses valuable knowledge about Earth, and we can't let them get to that."  
  
"But won't she lose her memory bank when we completely remodel her?"  
  
"No, she'll still be the same bot that we always knew."  
  
Unconvinced, Springer went and knelt beside her unconscious form. At least her face wasn't any different. He loved that sweet face, especially when it showed emotions that were remarkably… human. "Arcee," he murmured while stroking her faint pink cheek. She hadn't changed that much, but he cared for her to the extent that any slight difference made him uneasy. Trying to calm down, he strolled over the sound-wave receptor and turned it on. A female singer was softly crooning her melodious tune.  
  
"She'll need a new name too," informed Optimus.  
  
"What?? Why can't she still be called Arcee?" Springer loved that name. The sound of it rolling of his cybernetic tongue delighted him to no end.  
  
"That would be an obvious giveaway of her identity."  
  
The triple-changer sulked, focusing his attention back to the song.  
  
"Who's the singer?" asked Optimus.  
  
"…Some gal called Maybelle Lorne,"  
  
"Then I'll program her to be called Maybelle." Springer was about to protest, but figuring it was for her own good, shut his mouth. At least she was still Arcee in every other regard.  
  
"There, done." Optimus Prime patted his friend on the back. "She'll be back  
  
online in several cycles. I know you definitely want to talk with her."  
  
"Yes…I will."  
  
*************************************************************  
  
The program ended abruptly, due to outside interference. She had her blaster in hand, ready to fire. Peeking over the snow hedge that had formed around the smoking pod, she made out the forms of two animals. One was a magnificent white tiger, and the other a swift cheetah. They rapidly approached her area, but she was relieved anyhow to see some life forms.  
  
"Wow, check it out Tigatron! That pod sure came in for a nasty spill."  
  
"Let us hurry then. And you better inform Optimus back at base about our sightings."  
  
[Talking animals!? How can that be?] She laid low, abdomen flat against the interior of the pod, waiting until they were within a few meters before striking.  
  
"What the-!" The cheetah's sentence was cut off as her foot connected with his jaw. Rolling into the loosely packed snow, she fired a shot towards the tiger.  
  
"Tigatron, MAXIMIZE!" She watched in fascination as the tiger transformed, revealing that he was actually a robot by Cybertronian design.  
  
[So they've adopted animal forms now. Those Decepticons sure are  
  
sly…]  
  
The tiger-bot charged at her, but stopped leaving a few feet between them. "Who are you?" he demanded.  
  
"I will tell you nothing, Decepticon." Her mauve optics blazed with anger.  
  
[ They are the ones responsible…] A strange look overcame the other transformer. His red optics seemed to scan the length of her.  
  
"What are you saying, you are not a Predacon?" Meanwhile, the cheetah had slowly recovered from the blow and transformed as well. She didn't understand what he was saying.  
  
[Predacon? What in the world..?]  
  
"She doesn't have the Pred signature." The cheetah stared at her too; they both examined her like an alien life form.  
  
"Which side are you on?" She demanded in frustration.  
  
"We're Maximals..."  
  
"No! Are you for the Autobot or Decepticon cause?"  
  
"Whoa, check out her sign! She's an Autobot!" The cheetah-bot pointed excitedly at her wing blade. Shocked, the tiger dropped his weapon.  
  
"Hey look, you have to come with us back to our base. Our leader would definitely explain everything to you."  
  
She eyed the two robots suspiciously. [Why should I trust them? Yet, I'm so lost and confused that all I want is an explanation.]  
  
"Who's your leader?"  
  
"Optimus Primal, commander of the Maximals."  
  
[Optimus…Prime? No, Primal. But could it still be him?]  
  
"Alright, I'll come with you." Cautiously, she hooked her blaster back at her hip, and ejected the program disk from the pod.  
  
"Uh, I'm Cheetor and this is Tigatron. What' s your name?"  
  
She hesitated, but decided there was no need to hide her identity. "Maybelle…"  
  
******************************************************************  
  
The two Autobots walked hand in hand, her slight pink arm entwined around his strong green one through the space deck aboard the Ark. The femme turned towards her companion, a smile slowly spreading from her crimson lips.  
  
"Springer, honestly I feel fine. It's much better this way."  
  
"You sure?" His face was full of concern. "If anything happened to you I'll never forgive myself." He held her protectively in his arms, wishing as he always did that they were in another time, another place…  
  
One of the others ran by, stopping abruptly when he noticed them.  
  
"Hey Arcee," he noted, " you're looking a lot better. Optimus sure fixed you up good." Her face scrunched just slightly, confusion tugging at her.  
  
"No Jazz, she's Maybelle now."  
  
Jazz stared at the triple-changer, but then realization dawned on him.  
  
"Oh, I see…" He smiled broadly at the pink/silver femme. "You'll still be the same friend to us." She nodded, happiness flooding her senses at the realization that she would be reaccepted.  
  
**************************************************************  
  
As they made their way further south, Maybelle noticed that the climate was becoming more and more comfortable. The frozen earth had been replaced by green fields, and the blue sky overhead reminded her of another planet.  
  
1 [My birthplace…]  
  
The two Maximals led her towards a large ship, or at least it would have been a ship if it didn't appear so battered.  
  
"There it is," motioned Cheetor, "the Axalon. It doesn't look like much now, but I'm tellin' you someday that ship's going to get us back to Cybertron."  
  
[Cybertron…] "What's Cybertron to you?"  
  
"Cybertron's our home, where we should be instead of this beat- up planet."  
  
The mention of that far-away home stirred unwelcome feelings in both the cheetah and Maybelle. Tigatron, who had never seen the place, was pretty indifferent.  
  
"Sentinel, lower shields!" The three made their way to the lift, with Cheetor talking non-stop the entire way. [I hope he's not trying to impress me.] Still, he had a pretty friendly personality, and she probably would have liked him if she hadn't still been suspicious. The ramp lifted, as tension knotted in her sensors. [What if the explanation I get is, horrible?]  
  
******************************************************************  
  
The sliding doors opened, admitting an anxious Springer as he bolted into her room.  
  
"What are you doing," she started to ask, but stopped when she saw his expression.  
  
"Maybelle, you've gotta leave! The Decepticons have started an air raid and this base isn't going to hold." His optics radiated fear, and he talked faster than she had ever heard him.  
  
"But how did they manage to find this colony? We only have thirty- so units on this planet."  
  
"Never mind," he interrupted her, "right now you are heading right for the evacuation site. They're going to start launching status pods into orbit and I want you to go first." He pulled her out of her desk, literally dragging her out of the room.  
  
"Wait," she reasoned, "aren't you going as well?"  
  
He turned so that his optics bore into hers. In his, she saw fear, love, and a wild desperation. "I can't now," he muttered, "it's my duty as a ground commander to see this through. But you, if you don't make it out alive my spark will never rest even if it's doomed to perish this time." A loud explosion knocked them both into the corridor, while sealing off a possible exit.  
  
"Go! Head for the evacuation center now!!" He yelled at her through the dust and debris. She scrambled to her feet, fear driving her to run. The sound of his steps pounded behind her, as well as the echoes of overhead explosions. Up ahead were the doors to the evacuation center, but destruction threatened to stop them before they got there.  
  
"Wait…"  
  
The voice of her companion stopped her in her tracks. She turned back to see him get up after being hit by flying debris. His outstretched hand held an object towards her. Quickly, she made her way to his side, just as he pressed a disk into her palm. "Load this into the pod. If anything happens, it'll help you remember."  
  
"No one else is leaving, they're outside and that's where I should be…"  
  
"Hurry!" Giving her a last glance, he shoved her through the double doors. She heard the sickening crunch of the corridor ceiling give way, burying life into an eternal grave.  
  
"Springer!!!" Slamming against the doors, she tried desperately to pry them open. Strong arms took hold of her, tearing the frantic Autobot from the opening and separating her forever from him.  
  
"Springer made sure that you would be able to leave."  
  
"I won't leave, not like this!" They ignored her, activating a nearby status pod.  
  
"Get in."  
  
"But…"  
  
2 "Get in!!! Don't you realize what he did for you?!"  
  
Truly frightened now, she was paralyzed from one end of circuitry to the other. An active sympathetic system was all that enabled her to climb into the pod. [Why, Springer, why??]  
  
The pod's lid was closed, as though enclosing her into a permanent tomb. Tears streamed from her optics as she felt the acceleration when the pod launched from the base. It hurtled into cyberspace, leaving behind the doomed planet. [Why did this happen?] She felt for the disk he had given her, the only piece of him she could take. Loading it into the pod's drive, she felt a strange sense of dread grip her. [So I'll never see him again?]  
  
"Preparing for automatic shutdown."  
  
The voice startled her, representing a new threat. Before she realized what was about to happen, the deafening sound of a dying planet washed over the insignificant pod.  
  
"Springer…"  
  
She was able to whisper before her fluid-pump abruptly stopped. 


	2. Adjustment

The lift reached its destination, letting the three of them off into the command center. Fascinated, she walked up to the main computer console. The equipment was slightly different; she didn't recognize a number of the commands.  
  
[So this really means that…]  
  
"Please don't touch that."  
  
Cheetor's voice brought her back to the immediate present.  
  
"Big bot and the others are out, so we should probably just wait here for them."  
  
Examining the interior of the Axalon, Maybelle saw a vivid repainting of the Arc in her mind. The Maximal base was relatively small, but she felt a strange sense of ease in it. [It's as though I've come home, but not quite…]  
  
"They're back! Sentinel, lower shields."  
  
Tigatron quickly moved past her to receive his fellow crewmembers. The lift opened as Optimus Primal and the remaining Maximals entered the room.  
  
"Cheetor, we left as soon as we got you message. What's this about finding an Autobot?"  
  
"Optimus, you're not going to believe this! We found her just borderline of Grid Tetran."  
  
Cheetor motioned towards her. Maybelle, overwhelmed, comforted at the sight of some many other robots, stared at the commander. He bore a slight resemblance to the Optimus she had known. She regarded all of them in curiosity; their secondary modes all consisted of various …animals? Beasts would be the better word to use, since they all portrayed a sense of wild ferocity.  
  
In an authoritative tone, Optimus Primal stepped forward and addressed her. "This is really extraordinary, but I don't want to make you feel too overwhelmed. As you know, I am Optimus Primal leader of the Maximals on this planet."  
  
"Greetings can be spared for the moment, what I really would like is information." That sounded incredibly rude to her own audios, but she was at a point where further delay would prove disastrous.  
  
"Alright I understand," decided the commander, "Cheetor, please escort her to the conference room. Rhinox and I will try to pull up some files to help."  
  
The cheetah-bot nodded, and motioned for her to follow him. In an attempt to ease the awkwardness, she spoke to the Maximal leader in a pleading tone.  
  
"My name is Maybelle, former communications specialist amongst the Autobots. Please, all I want is to find out what happened to colony G-281… and me." Optimus nodded, giving her a surprising sense of reassurance.  
  
  
  
******************************************************************  
  
"Any luck, old friend?" Optimus questioned Rhinox, the Maximal technician and only one among his units with a cool head he could turn to at times of despondency. There were data tracks dating from centuries ago that were pulled up on screen. Rhinox typed an access command, as a particular article was pulled up.  
  
"Optimus," he started in an undecipherable tone, "what I've found is remarkable. There aren't many files on Maybelle in particular, but take a look at the this." The commander peered at the screen, noting the print that appeared in late Cybertronian.  
  
"Galvatron issues Decepticon attack on Autobot laboratory in Delta Gigma sector of Cybertron. The Decepticons were believed to be searching for an Autobot communications expert by the name of Arcee. Currently her location is unknown, but it is believed that Autobot Leader Optimus Prime has secured her to an orbiting station around the planet Earth."  
  
Optimus shook his head. "Well, whatever the Decepticons were after, they sure were desperate. Anything else?" Another article appeared, dated slightly later than the previous one.  
  
"There is buzz on Cybertron about the apparent disappearance of Autobot communications specialist Arcee. Last seen with her squadron on planet Earth, there is a frantic Cyclonus led search for her. However, there have been reports of an individual bearing physical resemblance to Arcee, as well as being entrusted with her former position. Rumors have also been surfacing that Arcee was remodeled and renamed in a secret laboratory."  
  
The Maximal leader solemnly absorbed the information he had been just presented with. "I knew she looked familiar when I first saw her, but never would I have guessed that-"  
  
"That she would be the communications specialist our planet almost waged war over," Rhinox finished decisively for him. Neither spoke for a while, their silence a reflection of what had been brought upon them.  
  
"She'd be an asset to our ranks," mentioned Optimus, "and it's now our responsibility to have her safely returned to Cybertron. The Maximal Elders would want to examine her, and decide what her future would be from there."  
  
"Only where do we start by informing her that she's been out for, say, three centuries?"  
  
"I know…" replied Optimus grimly, "we'll just have to somehow ease her into reality."  
  
******************************************************************  
  
After a detailed tour of the Axalon, courtesy of an overly talkative Cheetor, Maybelle had been assigned temporary quarters, and managed to catch bits of the Maximal version of Cybertronian history. The fact that Maximals were descendants of Autobots astonished her, presenting itself as a seemingly unlikely possibility. Descendants? But how…]  
  
She also met each member of the Maximal crew, as they passed him or her going about the usual routines. Surprisingly, they treated her with nothing short of respect and welcome, of course, after they got over the initial shock of learning her identity. She felt their curious stares and maybe a bit of edginess from some such as Dinobot. The engineering expert Rattrap, however, had bombarded her with questions. They had walked in on a small, obscure room that she would normally have bypassed without notice, and found him busy assembling a spherical metal device.  
  
"Yo Rattrap! Leave the scrap metal and say hi to Maybelle."  
  
The short robot looked annoyed to be dragged away from his invention, but once the conversation was underway, he found himself fascinated by the surviving Autobot.  
  
"So what exactly are dose human thingies ya keep talkin' about," he asked for the third time. Maybelle rolled her optics, but in some ways felt she could empathize with him. [He has the same sort of curiosity running through his circuits as I do.] Before she could answer his flurry of questions, the door slip open to admit a grave looking Rhinox.  
  
"…Maybelle, could you follow me to the command center? Optimus has the information you need."  
  
******************************************************************  
  
The news hit her hard. No… the straight facts weren't what hurt her. Rather, the actuality that she had let herself settle into a false mindset, believing that she could somehow elude the awful occurrence; that shook her, and caused a sea of emotions to swell in response. All the while, snatches of Optimus' report resounded repeatedly in her mind.  
  
"A sudden Decepticon raid on colony G-281,"  
  
" -resulting in the destruction of the planet,"  
  
" No recorded survivors-"  
  
"Autobots and Decepticons alike are now theoretically extinct,"  
  
She could only prevent herself from going insane by focusing elsewhere. Slowly, she transported herself back in time. Back on the Ark, where she had been with comrades, and Springer. But the memory only served to emphasize the loss she had suffered that day, centuries ago. [Time will not quell my hate.] She clenched both her fists, and prepared to make a resolution. [But… I have won. Victory is ours. The Autobots have outlasted the Decepticons!]  
  
Her fist relaxed, as a wave of grief settled over. [Yet, if this is victory, why am I far less happier that when the war was still occurring?] Raising her head to the roof of the base, a silent scream of agony played at her lips. Rhinox, along with Cheetor and Optimus who were present, took in her obvious pain, and felt each of their sparks go out to her. But something in Maybelle's mind suddenly clicked.  
  
"Optimus," she asked with a quavering voice, "what about those Predacons you spoke of earlier? If the Maximals are Autobot descendants, then aren't they…"  
  
"Decepticon descendants? Yes. That is where Maximal and Predacon origins  
  
differ."  
  
Tightening her hold on a nearby seat, Maybelle felt the metal give way due to the rapid increase of pressure. [Then each Predacon on this planet shall perish as I avenge my former comrades.]  
  
Optimus sensed her accumulating anger, and proceeded to guess her intention.  
  
"There will be no revenge carried out. I understand your emotional state, but many things have happened since the Great War. Our situation here must be taken into account."  
  
Reason and understanding had been temporarily wiped from her conscious being. "I don't care about how the situation limits me," she turned on the Maximal commander sharply, "but I know that vengeance is within my reach." Her optics blazed a fiery mauve, unleashing the fury within. "Think of it as a favor to your crew. I sacrifice myself and in the process, take out as many Predacons as I can."  
  
"You'll do nothing of the sort," he countered firmly, "not only is it irrational and uncalled for, it puts you in unnecessary jeopardy." She cursed him, furious that he put himself so resolutely in her way. Noticing that she had become even more flustered, Optimus tried to calm the shaking bot before him.  
  
"It has been quite awhile since the events you remember. Besides Maybelle, there were no absolute evil participants in the war."  
  
Bitter tears swelled in her optics. [Yes, there were those who ruined lives…and those watched their lives become ruined.] Without another word, she stormed out of the command center, leaving a trio of staggered, perplexed Maximals staring after her.  
  
******************************************************************  
  
He appeared before her, a mixture of sadness and disappointment written on his familiar, though unsmiling features. "I never expected you to be so rash and...violent,"  
  
She shot him an incredulous look; how could he blame her for attempting to take certain action?  
  
"They took you from me, and destroyed a future we could have shared."  
  
Her companion look unconvinced, and continued his disapproving look.  
  
"Mass murder isn't something that the Arcee I know would be bent upon."  
  
His words hurt, they dug deep into the spiritual scars already present in her new form. In response, she turned tearfully to face him. "Several centuries locked away in a cramped escape pod can vastly change one's mindset…"  
  
******************************************************************  
  
The loud knocking on her door snapped Maybelle out of her reverie. Earlier, she had escaped into the temporary quarters she had been assigned, vowing to plan the death of all Predacons. "Come in," she grumbled, getting off the recharge bed she had collapsed onto. At her invitation, Cheetor and Airazor both entered, each wearing a cautious, concerned look.  
  
"Maybelle, we just got the news from Optimus…"  
  
"And we understand your present state completely!" Cheetor looked annoyed at being rudely cut off, but the female Maximal casually waved him away. "I'd like to hear your plans, like, what you're planning to do now." She walked over and sat beside the other femme, genuine sympathy radiating from her optics. Similarly, Maybelle felt as though she could entrust Airazor with her feelings. They had taken a liking to each other when first introduced in the engineering bay, and Airazor was overjoyed to at last have a female crewmember she could turn to.  
  
"Well, I don't give a damn about what Optimus was raving about. All I know is that those forsaken Predacons are all going to be scrap metal by the time I'm through with them." Fist clenched, she glared from one to the other, daring them to contradict her. Cheetor made a soft noise in his voice synthesizer, and then shot a helpless look at Airazor.  
  
"You know what Mabe, you should spend a week or so touring the planet with me. There are loads of beautiful sites out there."  
  
"Yeah," chimed Cheetor, glad that his fellow comrade had taken the dive to ease things out, "like, what's your transformation?"  
  
His question brought back the reminder that she could no longer be in a vehicle-mode Arcee had.  
  
"…A F-22 " she replied grimly, remembering that Prime and Springer had chosen the form without any say on her part.  
  
"Ultra gear, another flyer! Man, those Preds are gonna get theirs in the keister now!"  
  
The room remained silent for several nanoclicks, until a beep over the intercom broke the uncomfortable situation.  
  
"AIRAZOR, REPORT TO THE COMMAND CENTRE IMMEDIATELY FOR MISSION BRIEFING!"  
  
Maybelle thought she heard a slight groan from the other, as Airazor got up in a cadet-like manner and stated brightly, "That's my cue. Optimus there had better have something fun for me tonight." Chuckling to herself, the hawk-femme was almost out the door when she turned abruptly. "Oh, I'm going on a solo flight tomorrow over several sectors, but I'm sure no one would mind if you came along. So you'd better, okay?"  
  
Jumping at the opportunity to familiarize herself with the planet, Maybelle agreed.  
  
"Great, I'll see you at 3.5 cycles then." As Airazor left, Cheetor, who had meanwhile been standing awkwardly in the corner of her quarters, suddenly felt the need to justify his presence.  
  
"Really Mabe, don't take anything Optimus says right now personally. I can tell he's just concerned for your own safety."  
  
He had moved to the middle of the room, standing prominently in a way that made him look like he was seeking self-assurance. "You probably know by now that I really have no idea what you've gone through and the hell you're experiencing now. But if you accept me as a real friend, I'll do everything I can to understand and help you."  
  
The words rolled off his tongue like they had been rehearsed and practiced days in advance. The earnest look he gave her made her think of pleading, pre-adolescent humans. No, she wasn't being ungrateful, but the fact that he made friendship sound like something so, so casual…she couldn't appreciate that.  
  
[True friendship has to be formed through eons of trust and camaraderie.]  
  
Judging from the cheetah-bot's age portrayal, he was most likely too young to have gone through such an experience. However, there was a warm aura radiating from his being. He was friendly, definitely a comfort in an alien world to which she had yet to be accustomed. And he might be on her side concerning the issue of revenge.  
  
"Of course, Cheetor. I'll always consider you as a good friend."  
  
******************************************************************  
  
"WHO did ya say she was?!"  
  
"You heard me Cheese-lips, I said she was Ar…ah ha! Didn't you once refer to her as your great aunt-"  
  
"No way am I related to that dame, Chopper-face!!"  
  
Such was the scene in progress inside the training center, where Maybelle and Cheetor ventured after leaving her quarters. It was actually quite ridiculous, watching Rattrap size up to Dinobot who was twice his height, in an attempt to fervently argue his point. Both of them turned in her direction when she entered, resulting in Dinobot pretending to polish his sword, and Rattrap turning away in clear embarrassment. Only Silverbolt, who had been observing from the other side of the center, approached to greet her.  
  
"How are you making out, Maybelle?" His noble and handsome features were quite impressive, but it was his tone of voice that she was fond of the most. It sounded like he had known her for centuries, and was ready to commit a gallant act of chivalry at her very command. When she had first seen him in the command center, she had immediately pegged him as an extremely efficient warrior. Only now after some small talk, did it become apparent that he also had the perfect disposition of a…gentleman. That word described Silverbolt to the last fibrillary strand in his microchips.  
  
"Well I'm glad you'll be getting acquainted," he said after several minutes. Dinobot and Rattrap had long since seen a chance to discreetly leave the center unnoticed, and were nowhere in sight.  
  
"You have to give Cheetor credit. Without his guidance, I'd be sulking away in my quarters still." The younger Maximal, who had looked upset in missing out on the conversation, evidently brightened at her remark.  
  
"Ah, it's nothing…" he said while lowering his optics bashfully to the ground.  
  
"Great, with Cheetor as your guide, you can't go wrong. Welcome to the team, Maybelle. I'll be seeing you around then." She watched carefully as the charming fuzor made his way towards the exit, engrossed in how he managed to almost always say the right thing.  
  
"What do you think of him?" Cheetor was regarding her with a half quizzical, half disappointed expression that entertained her.  
  
"He's pretty spectacular," then she added for her friend's benefit, "almost as attractive as you!"  
  
That well-aimed comment put Cheetor in a flabbergasted state for the next few cycles.  
  
******************************************************************  
  
Infuriated and extremely volatile, Maybelle flung herself into the cramped desk in her quarters. More of her precious time had been spent in a conference with Optimus, and the results were not appreciable.  
  
"Maybelle, it's not that you aren't trusted," the commander had explained firmly, "nothing could be further from the truth. I just don't want you emotional overdrive interfering with your logic in situations that could be perilous."  
  
The recollection of his words stung her pride and self- esteem sharply. She could not partake on any missions for the time being, and the entire length of Predacon territory, along with its surrounding sectors, was restricted. She found herself with an overwhelming sick desire to shoot Optimus in the faceplate, and then tell him her personal opinion on restricted areas.  
  
[What's gotten into you?]  
  
The clear voice of her logic system forced her to restrain the vicious urges.  
  
[Calm down, he already thinks you're a madcap lunatic who'll shoot  
  
everything in sight. Don't want to prove him right now, do you?]  
  
Dismally, she also reminded herself that Optimus had assigned a unit to watch over her. [An attentive guardian he had called it.] Fortunately, Optimus had ever so wisely chosen Silverbolt for the task. Knowing the noninterventionist fuzor, he couldn't care less what she did, so long as it didn't result in a direct reprimand from Optimus.  
  
She was finally benefiting from the tranquil silence, when a loud, curt knock announced her supervisor's arrival.  
  
"Come in," she called flatly, slightly irritated at the missed chance for peaceful meditation. [What I wouldn't give for a nice escape spot, far away from the unnerving reality in front of my face every nanoclick.] The idea appealed to her immensely, and she continued to ponder the possibility while Silverbolt strolled leisurely inside.  
  
"Well ma'am, I guess I'm the one who'll have the pleasure of escorting you around now. I was wondering if there's anything you required." He smiled broadly, causing her to fail in detecting any note of insincerity on his part.  
  
"Nothing at the moment," she replied smoothly while watching him stand unobtrusively against the barren gray wall. He had seen her heated conversation with Optimus, and was keeping his distance knowing she was in a pretty corrosive mood.  
  
"So, um, I take it you won't be undertaking any missions soon?" Unfortunately, his apt choice of conversation topic wasn't cleverly picked, and the thought that he wasn't as perfect as she first thought him to be, struck her. [Shouting and complaining won't get you anywhere. You're way past the mark of being a young, spontaneous bot, May. Deal with it in a way that will actually work.] This quiet internal conversation enabled her to maintain a civil outlook.  
  
"Honestly Silverbolt, I don't know why I'm being treated in such a 'unique' way. I feel as though I'm not part of the team." True, she had personally requested yesterday to Optimus that she keep her present form and Autobot insignia. There were personal reasons for doing thus, but she still vowed that her commitment would be 102% with the Maximal cause. After considerable hesitation, the Maximal leader had finally agreed.  
  
"Don't think that," Silverbolt encouraged wholeheartedly, "Optimus is just uneasy about how you'll respond to a Predacon encounter. Give him a few days, and I'll speak to him for you."  
  
She nodded, but the cheerless mood she was in never lifted.  
  
"Why don't you take some time to visit an area in our territory that you really enjoyed? It'll take your mind off some incommodious things." His suggestion reawakened her earlier idea of having a secret hideout. The more she thought about it, the more the idea appealed to her. [Why not? Maybe I'd be in a better mood around everyone altogether.]  
  
"Silverbolt, about your earlier offer of assistance…" She looked directly at him, an earnest request forming at her lips. "Could you lend a hand with a small project?"  
  
  
  
******************************************************************  
  
  
  
"Remind me again why I ever agreed to help you,"  
  
"Because you're a really nice bot,"  
  
"…Fine, but I can't help tonight. I deserve a break of some sort."  
  
It was four days since Silverbolt had agreed, in a rather confused way, to help her construct some "desperately required" structure. She had caught him in a burst of "Anything, ma'am!" attitude, and when her intent was finally revealed, it was too late for the valiant fuzor to back out without doing serious damage to his character. Grudgingly, he followed her to Grid Klyma the following morning, where on a previous visit with Airazor, Maybelle had spotted a magnificent looking set of falls. When Silverbolt first saw the landscape, the brilliant beams of early morning sun illuminated the entire setting in a golden rain-wash.  
  
"Wow, it's beautiful. Only, how do you intend to build a hideout here, ma'am?"  
  
"My idea," she answered earnestly as he followed her towards the cascading aqua-colored water, "is to set up a voice activated screener behind the fall itself. There's a large cave concealed by the running water, so the screener will redirect the water flow and expose the cave opening at a voice signal." It was simple enough, nothing technically very fancy. She smiled in anticipation of having such a beautiful residence, when she caught the funny expression on Silverbolt's face.  
  
"What's the matter?"  
  
The Maximal warrior shook his head diffidently, and looked around at the green and gold landscape. "Sorry ma'am, but innovative design really isn't my department. You should've gotten Rhinox, or even Rattrap to help." The helpless look on his face was really amusing to observe; she almost snickered aloud, but managed to keep it in knowing his pride was a very sensitive element. She simply placed a trusting hand on his shoulder and noted,  
  
"If you could help me get some of the parts and tools I require, I'd be indebted to you." She paused. "Oh, and Silverbolt,"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Don't call address me with 'ma'am' anymore. 'Mabe' seems to have caught on with everyone else, so why don't you go for it too?"  
  
Thus went the daily ritual for the initial four days: Silverbolt snuck into Rhinox's equipment room, constantly carrying the fear of discovery, when the other was occupied elsewhere, and salvaged whatever materials were needed that day. He then proceeded to rendez-vous with Maybelle at the falls, where the two of them engaged in the construction of the voice system. On day five, the voice-activated component was installed, and the task at hand was moving other equipment, including a long-range comlink, into the cave.  
  
"So I take it you won't be spending much time back at the base," he asked slightly downcast. She looked at him in surprise; it was obvious that he really didn't welcome the idea of her residing outside the Axalon, but he throughout the days they spent together, he had been trying to keep his opinions to himself.  
  
"I'll be at our base often, this is just somewhere for me to be when I want an…escape." [It's also somewhere that I can plan the untimely death of all Predacons.]  
  
But even this idea seemed farfetched at the moment; she had never seen a Predacon before, let alone engage one in combat. Yet, it was probably just a matter of time.  
  
"Silver," she called him by the nickname that had stuck after hearing Rattrap call him such, "don't mention my hideout or its location to anyone, please?" Her optics searched his, seeking for the reassurance that she knew he would give her. He gave a sort of half-grin in reply and joked, "I didn't exactly think you'd be announcing this to the planet when you requested that I sneak the parts from Rhinox." She gasped in mock surprise.  
  
"Could this actually be our fuzor friend's first attempt at underlying sarcasm?"  
  
"Not really," he replied wryly, "you weren't present for the unsuccessful ones."  
  
The untaintable sun went down on their humored exchange, highlighting the release she felt when spending time in that golden paradise.  
  
******************************************************************  
  
[How the heck am I going to move all of this?] Maybelle was contemplating how she could fit a recharge bed along with her desk into her cargo storage, when heavy steps outside her quarters hinted someone's timed arrival. "Come in," she called, fully expecting it to be either Silverbolt or Optimus checking up on her current state. She was quite astonished, when the door slid open revealing Rhinox standing outside her room.  
  
"So the 'great move' is finally done?" His tone contained no traces of sarcasm or disdain; instead he was smiling at her, his optics glowing like she had somehow let him in on her secret. Her features must have shown her shock then fear, for he immediately walked towards her, and placed an access key in her hand.  
  
"There's a rather outdated CR unit that's stored in the equipment room on the lower level. I fixed it up a bit yesterday, so it should be running decently now. Take it." With no intention of saying more, he proceeded to leave.  
  
"Wait," she beckoned softly, "so you know…"  
  
The computer expert chuckled lightly at her seeming amazement. "I kind of figured it out when stuff started disappearing out of the supply room every day. And Silverbolt isn't exactly the most discreet bot in the universe." He resumed his light chuckling, causing her to relax much more in his presence.  
  
"Thank you," she started awkwardly.  
  
He immediately put his hand up, in a gesture that indicated he required no gratitude on her part. "I only want to remind you of one thing," he stated solemnly, "self-fulfillment can be easily achieved when one takes a step back, and looks at a situation from totally different perspective. Remember that, and be careful."  
  
She absorbed his words, realizing they contained age-old proverbial wisdom that she was often fond of. Only, how they were associated to her situation, she failed to grasp that. By the time she snapped out of her deep trance, Rhinox was gone. He said little, but from what he had said and how he said it, she felt he was trustworthy of any secret she had.  
  
[There's a lot more to him than I first thought.] But she had no time to deliberate his exact role, for the intercom sounded, carrying an announcement she had been long waiting for.  
  
"MAYBELLE, REPORT TO THE COMMAND CENTRE FOR MISSION BRIEFING IMMEDIATELY!"  
  
Something inside her stirred, eager to be released from captivity. It was powerful, and more potent than any emotion she had ever experienced. [Revenge… it is time.]  
  
******************************************************************  
  
The command center was deathly silent, save for the occasional bleep coming from Sentinel that indicated the finish of another processed command. Cheetor, being the restless, action-seeking bot he was, could hardly keep still, especially after the news Optimus had relayed to them. [Mabe's gonna be so happy! ] It was a small, no, more of a second-priority mission, but nonetheless it showed that Optimus Primal was ready to have Maybelle extend the duties she owed to her faction.  
  
The cheetah-bot would have been bouncing up and down, if he didn't know that the more serious attendants such as Dinobot and Silverbolt would be throwing him harsh and disapproving looks. [Sheesh, what's taking her so flippin' long?] He had barely the reservation to look attentive, so contented himself in counting the number of times Dinobot's nostrils flared until she showed up. For what seemed like Vons, the entrance finally hissed open to admit a very alert-looking femme.  
  
"Commander Optimus," she addressed him in a very formal tone, "I suppose you're giving me the brilliant chance of proving myself?"  
  
"In a way," smiled the commander, ignoring her attempt to pique him, "it's essential that you be prepared for any mission, whether it be critical or seemingly minor to our struggle."  
  
Gesturing towards the members behind him, he added, "And from what I've been hearing, you're more than prepared."  
  
She didn't care if the last statement was genuine, or if it was an attempt to criticize: it was time to prove that she was a credible member of their faction now.  
  
She spotted Silverbolt across the room, and he gave a quick thumbs-up sign. Thank you, she mouthed, realizing that he must have put in a good word for her. The Maximal Commander went directly to the main computer console, and uploaded the grid map of the planet.  
  
"A medium patch of securable energon was detected in Grid Veta. You and Dinobot are assigned to gather a stable supply. However, I'll be accompanying you both as precaution, since our scanners are detecting Pred signatures in the surrounding areas."  
  
A mild snort of contempt came from Dinobot's direction, but it was expertly ignored by all present as Optimus activated the lift. Inconspicuously, Silverbolt nudged his way through the chain of exiting bots, and stood beside her.  
  
"Don't worry about the stuff for your hideout, I'll move it all there for you soon as I get out of here. Rhinox had a talk with me too." She almost caught a wink from him, but he pushed her ahead before she had a chance to thank the helpful fuzor.  
  
"Psst, go for it Mabe," whispered Cheetor as she passed him on her way out. The comforting look he gave her proved the extent of his confidence in her abilities. [This mission matters a lot on my record, looks like I'll have to put impulses aside to accomplish it to satisfaction.] That would be hard. 


	3. Aversion

The harsh desert wind sliced into the dust-covered ground, causing tiny whirlwinds of sand to drift about aimlessly. No life could be found for miles, for this was a sector in Predacon territory that had been utterly stripped of organic existence.  
  
[This pitiful planet…]  
  
He didn't mind that the flecks of airborne sand dulled the metallic red coat of his armor, for Terrorsaur often spent time in this area, even if it was just to ponder a recent harsh reprimand from Megatron. The barren landscape reminded him a bit of his role right now in the Beast Wars.[A mindless pawn who follows a merciless tyrant with no insight into our non-existent future.]  
  
It really was depressing, and the red/silver flyer had witnessed enough of the Maximal/Predacon struggles to know how far they were from certain victory. But even then…what would be the point?  
  
[All this…the so-called war we're fighting…it all comes to nothing.]  
  
Looking back on his earlier hopes for leadership, he recognized what foolish notions he had in his head. [I had thought the way to victory would be through the extermination of all Maximals. But now, I realize how mistaken I was. The true victors would be the first ones to get off this Primus forsaken planet.]  
  
Megatron was a shrewd and cunning leader, but he showed no interest in the future investment of his troops. There had long been talks of dissension among the ranks, but what lacked was initiative to carry it out. Or more precisely, Terrorsaur had made futile attempts, which resulted in continuing smirks and mockery from his comrades.  
  
[Weak-minded fools.]  
  
Sure, they would laugh at his apparent foolishness and capitalize on any of his misfortunes, but they were unwilling to take that certain step themselves. A message via comlink alerted him to the fact that he was supposed to be on surveillance.  
  
"Terrorsaur," boomed the authoritative voice of his commander, "why haven't you started for Grid Veta yet? That energon patch must be secured for our purposes."  
  
"I'm on my way,"  
  
"Well hurry up! I want that energon supply for my latest endeavors."  
  
"Yes, Megatron," he responded with nothing short of a sneer, and cut out before he had to hear that detested voice again. [Yes Megatron, I may not match up to you in power or trickery yet, but try letting your guard down. Yes, just try letting your guard down, because I'll always be here, unseen in the shadows… waiting to crush you at that exact moment.]  
  
******************************************************************  
  
His joints sore after several endearing megacycles of heavy transport, Silverbolt stepped back to admire his handiwork. Everything he'd managed to haul, including the two-ton CR unit that had put a permanent dent in his sacroiliac, was in a position that Maybelle had previously outlined. [An interior designer I'll never be, but Mabe's going to like it. Well, after this much work she'd better…]  
  
Strolling through the ivory colored interior, with light emitters that had been implanted every few meters, Silverbolt become increasingly amazed as unnoticed details about the cave, overlooked before, caught his attention.  
  
The cascading falls didn't simply cover a cave, further into its depth was an extensive network of tunnels leading to other smoothly formed, marble recesses. This intricate hideout, judging from how long it took the fuzor to travel its entire length of intricately twisting depths, extended deep into the mountain cliff off which the water falls channeled.  
  
[This supposed 'cave' most likely isn't a result of natural erosion.]  
  
Tracing his index finger along the cave wall, he marveled at the exquisite beauty the whole area, cave and surroundings, reflected. It was as though the entire scenic setting was pre-constructed, a haven of its own, meant for no other purpose, other than to shelter its occupants in a heavenly paradise to live out carefree days. [Well, I'll just leave now and wait for her delighted response…] His musings were cut short, as a rather inconspicuous, jutting-out piece of the wall tripped him on his sauntering way.  
  
"Geezes!"  
  
He cursed while crashing into the opposite cavern wall. However on impact, a soft, crumbly surface met his outstretched hands instead of the expected hard slate rock. He was in the inner recesses of the cave network, and leaning on an obscure section that he hadn't noticed before. With both palms resting lightly on the indented surface, he realized that this particular section of wall was constructed with loosely packed earth that had apparently settled to seal the area over time. Applying increasing pressure to the sinking construction, Silverbolt watched in amazement as the entire section of wall collapsed backwards, revealing a dark entryway barely large enough for a transformer of his size.  
  
Temporarily petrified, the Maximal warrior stood, gaping at the predicament before him.  
  
[To enter, or not.]  
  
He shook his head in defeated resignation. [Better go check it out. Maybelle's going to be practically living here, wouldn't want to leave any nooks in this place overlooked.] Switching to night vision, he found it still unnervingly dark, so activated the infrared light beacon on his wrist as well. Crooked, lichen-covered steps tunneled deeper into the lowering mountain recess, yet Silverbolt followed them, prepared for anything.  
  
The steps stopped, as a larger, exposed chamber met his vaguely scanning optics. The musty smell of age penetrated his sensitive olfactory sensors, as he tentatively stepped forward to examine this mysteriously hidden room. Unsuspectingly, he stumbled over a heavy obstruction, causing a metallic clatter that set his audios on full alert.  
  
Reflexively bending to uncover what he had somehow clumsily discovered, Silverbolt found himself examining the body of a deceased transformer. This, of all events that had come his way in the past few cycles, was most shocking. It wasn't possible, given the lighting conditions, to exactly determine the individual's form and coloring, but the Decepticon symbol, etched prominently on the broad chest plate, revealed the bot's origins.  
  
"Primus…" the fuzor exclaimed, turning the form over for closer inspection. Rust tinged the metal finish, where a bright polish should have been. And judging from the body's loose limbs, several major connective cables have been severed. [Rough condition he was in before terminating.]  
  
The Decepticon had been carefully constructed with a strong build, but its form took on a longer, lither shape than that of Silverbolt. The tucked away, but prominent wings on the back plate marked the transformer to have been a flyer. Scanning the other parts of the room with his beacon, Silverbolt located a metallic desk with some outdated console resting on its corroded surface. [This poor guy must have lived here.]  
  
The light beam suddenly traveled over the wall piece behind the desk. A series of Cybertronian characters ran across the stone expanse, crudely carved into the hard material, but still decipherable. Only familiar with late Cybertronian text himself, Silverbolt frantically searched his data tracks for a translator program.  
  
"PROGRAM FOUND"  
  
"Run,"  
  
The meaning behind the columns of haunting scripture was immediately processed to his alert imaging screen. A formal, but fairly disquieting message, was relayed:  
  
[You, who have discovered my hidden resting place, must be a descendant from either a line of courageous Decepticons, or noble Autobots. In spite of which, you are entrusted now with the task of ensuring the propagation of our kind. In return, I offer you the chance to become the most powerful transformer, next to the Dark-god Unicron himself. If you are one who is righteous and honorable enough to be have such an immense burden set on your shoulders, you may access the computer terminal to receive my further instructions. After you have completed your task, only one more favor do I ask of you. I request that you bring my sparkless body back to our beloved home world of Cybertron, and deliver it into the hands of a Autobot warrior by the name of Skyree. I would be eternally grateful, even while in rest among the Matrix. Good luck, and till all are one.]  
  
"Legion Subterfuge Commander Lennix"  
  
The overwhelming information he had just been plagued unwillingly with greatly disturbed the Maximal warrior. [If this Lennix was a Decepticon, then his knowledge dated back quite some time.]  
  
The name didn't ring a bell for him, not in any of the history records he'd browsed contained mention of such a being. [And Skyree, who is that? Well, if this guy's been here as long as I think he has, Skyree's probably already joined him in the Matrix by now.]  
  
Deciding it was best to consider everything carefully, Silverbolt placed the Decepticon carefully against the stone wall, and retreated back up to the main level. [Why should I do anything? I have no desire to be the most powerful transformer.] Sighing, he spent the next megacycle covering up the discovered entrance using the original dirt and soil. How the heck did he get here in the first place? Patting the synthetic covering back into place, he muttered to himself.  
  
"Maybe some questions are best left unanswered,"  
  
[This power that Lennix offers, it could be easily abused if in the wrong hands. If there is some formidable power source down there, it's best if no one, especially the Predacons, finds out.]  
  
******************************************************************  
  
"Optimus to Rattrap, you there?"  
  
"Yup, we're here alrighty,"  
  
"Hold your position with Tigatron, I'll update you on our situation at the energon site."  
  
"You got it, Boss-monkey!"  
  
"Optimus out,"  
  
He faced Maybelle, who was avidly listening to an extraction tutorial delivered by Dinobot. She had denied the chance to fit herself into a beast form, and had to take extra precaution so as not to be affected by energon interference. So far, she was having no trouble at all, even with the high radiation that no doubt was present.  
  
[Amazing, I have to get Rhinox to find out what adaptation her form has taken.]  
  
The bored velociraptor, who personally thought his prized combat skills were needed elsewhere, was grudgingly demonstrating the use of Eo- level scanner when Optimus interrupted them.  
  
"Alright, let's head over there now. And Maybelle, if we do happen to meet any Predacons, no firing without my command." Hot indignation flashed through her circuits, but she gave no outward sign of this internal progression.  
  
"Fine then," she muttered through clenched teeth. If that was the way he was going to order her throughout the mission, then so be it. She followed Optimus' lead via air, while Dinobot made he way in beast-mode, using the fantastic speed that was characteristic of velociraptors.  
  
The pulsating aquamarine field was found in a deep valley twenty more clicks north, but the actually salvageable, stable patch was located just over the edge of that sharp crevice. Someone would have to be lowered into the narrow opening to manually remove energon pieces, and then be pulled up to place the valuable pieces into containment. For the time being, no Predacons had shown up to challenge their claim of the resource, thus Dinobot and Maybelle proceeded to the process without delay. She had just hooked the extending cable and utility belt around her waist, when Optimus' comlink went off in a series of urgent beeps. Rattrap's frantic voice on the other end called for their immediate attention.  
  
"Hey Big guy, we've got some nasty Pred visitors here that really wanna give me and poor Tigatron a death wish!"  
  
"How many? Are you holding up?"  
  
"Huh-lo! I wouldn't be wasting my voice whinin' to ya if we could handle 'em. OW! Man, that Needlenose is vicious with that thing! There's four of dem, but one's gone now."  
  
"Hang on, I'll be right there."  
  
Hastily, he activated his prime jets for take-off, intending to leave without postponement.  
  
"Do you need backup?"  
  
Optimus shook his head at the Autobot femme. "You're duty is to finish extracting that energon here with Dinobot. I can take care of a few Preds."  
  
Dinobot's impatient growl called her focus back to the task at hand. Sighing, she couldn't help but wish she were going with Optimus, to finally see what these infamous Predacons exactly were.  
  
With the last precious energon particle dusted off her hand into a sealed container, Maybelle glanced up at her particularly silent co- worker. "We haven't heard anything from the commander, maybe he's in more of a dilemma than he predicted."  
  
"What do you suggest?"  
  
"We should go check it out,"  
  
"Against orders?" His harsh reply seemed to be edged with scorn.  
  
"Well, would you rather wait here in suspenseful anxiety for that certain order?"  
  
His cold optics focused on hers for a few tense nanoclicks.  
  
"No, I suppose not," he replied at long last, "let us go now." Carefully, they each hooked a container of the energon into their back compartments. They were only a dozen meters away from the extraction site, when several laser shots soared dangerously close to their heads.  
  
"An enemy," bellowed Dinobot as he quickly transformed, "show yourself, coward!" From her position behind the saurian warrior, Maybelle noticed a robot she had never seen before. [A Predacon, no doubt. But I was expecting them to be more…menacing?]  
  
This one, that faced them now, was a dark lavender color, and sported two giant pincers in the place of hands. But other than that, it didn't exactly look like he was about to claim their lives.  
  
"Scorponok," hissed the Maximal warrior, eager to face off with an old adversary.  
  
She leaned forward, whispering into his auditory receiver. "You're familiar with him?" The warrior grinned savagely.  
  
"Of course, we're 'beyond' familiar. But I'll handle him, easily. You, continue on to see how the others are faring." She longed to stay and join him in destroying the Pred, but concern for her other comrades moved her. And judging from Dinobot's bloodthirsty look, she didn't particularly want to witness his fervor during an intense battle.  
  
"I'll be seeing you soon then, good luck." She transformed into jet-mode and took off, leaving the two foes to square off against one another.  
  
"Not needed," hissed Dinobot, as the silver jet disappeared from his line of sight. Then all of his focus was directed upon the unfortunate Scorponok, who would soon be feeling the presence of his sword through that thick, protective shell. "Shall we begin, 'old' comrade?"  
  
Unruffled, Scorponok sneered while removing a vial from his side compartment.  
  
"Maybe another time, 'Traitor'. I have everything I need, and Megatron will be more pleased with this than with the meager amount of energon you carry."  
  
With a smash, the Predacon second-in-command shattered the fragile vial between them, causing a concentrated amount of sulfurous gas to be emitted. The potent substance caused Dinobot's optics to agitate, eliciting a furious cry on his part. Charging blindly through the smog, uncontaminated air eventually met him as a wash of relief relieved his pained visual receivers.  
  
"Scorponok, this will not go unpaid for," he cursed venomously, as only an empty setting met his renewed optics.  
  
******************************************************************  
  
The mayhem that was occurring up ahead reawakened the warrior instincts that had been buried for so long. The battlefield simulations and reality she had participated in previously were no doubt history, but that didn't stop the streaking sense of wild exhilaration that soared through her circuits.  
  
Undergoing the transformation sequence, it was possible to make out Optimus and Rattrap up head, shooting on a large, red/blue robot who appeared to have bursts of flame releasing in long sequences from his weapon. Two other forms, Cheetor and Tigatron by the looks of it, were occupied against two other flyers further down.  
  
"Maybelle," yelled Optimus over the noise of his own shotguns, "you do have my order to fire!"  
  
1 [ No kidding…]  
  
She leveled her blaster at the unsuspecting Predacon, and fired dead-on while Rattrap and Optimus watched from the ground. The laser blast drove a hole through his back plate, momentarily stunning the agape ant- bot. Following it up with another shot, she fired four blasts in total through his tough alloyed armor before deciding that it was enough. [Optimus and Rattrap will be able to finish you off.] Putting away her blaster, she accelerated again and glided expertly to where Cheetor and Tigatron were holding their own against two Pred flyers.  
  
******************************************************************  
  
"Dactyl-bot, help Wazzpinator! Wazzpinator shot,"  
  
Terrorsaur stopped briefly from his task of bombarding Cheetor with missiles to catch his wing-mate hovering dangerously, on the verge of altogether falling. [Damn, his jet motors must be short-circuited.] Launching two last missiles from his shoulder-mounted cannons, he crisscrossed the string of laser blasts to fire directly on Tigatron.  
  
"Always counting on me to save your skidplate, huh Bug-face?" He slimly dodged an oncoming bullet from his left. "Huh? That wasn't from either of the felines,"  
  
Another blast from behind skimmed the surface of his arm, leaving a slight scorch mark, as he muttered a shrill curse.  
  
"Waspinator, you useless piece of scrap, where are you?!"  
  
Instinct told him that the other had probably already been shot down by the array of the bullets and laser beams that now rained on him with deadly accuracy. Too busy dodging hazardous shots to scan his surroundings, Terrorsaur was stunned to see Optimus Primal swiftly appear beside him.  
  
"Time's up, Predacon…" The aerial commander felt the rapid, burning pain as two bullets lodged themselves into his thigh plate. The injury disabled his flight ability, as he struggled to maneuver against any further attack. A squawk escaped from him as a sudden, more imminent threat presented itself to in the form of a flaming, swiftly approaching object.  
  
"Eat this, Pred scum!" A verbal threat, and sudden impact to his chest were the only signs of disaster, before the detonation ended all of his awareness.  
  
******************************************************************  
  
Stunned, Maybelle watched as the red/silver Predacon fell helplessly from the glowing sky. He had suffered two direct blows from Optimus' twin guns, and a detonated explosive courtesy of Rattrap. She had been present, behind him on the right, when she saw his attempt to help his fellow comrade.  
  
As far as she knew, Decepticons and Predacons alike should exhibit an "each bot for himself" type of philosophy. Endangering your own hide to aid another was virtually unheard of.  
  
His fate surprised her, but what affected the Autobot even more, was the contemptible sight of his retreating comrades. The wasp and ant were pulling quickly away from the shots, pursued by Optimus and others who tried to prevent their withdrawal. Looking back at the smoking form of the injured Predacon, she felt a deep loathing for the wasp, and all those who in turn abandoned their comrades. And the Predacon before her, he had triggered a buried emotion that she had almost forgotten: pity.  
  
He was an enemy, but before this momentous fact registered, another voice within was urging her to help him.  
  
The others were quite some distance away, busy with the remaining Predacons. Before the Maximals could notice, Maybelle moved cautiously to where the Predacon had fallen. His damages were severe, she noted, the exposed circuitry in his spark cavity revealed his precarious state.  
  
"That explosive sure packed a punch, " she muttered. He needed a CR chamber, and possibly more; she would have to take him to her hideout. [Let's just hope Silverbolt was kind enough to have already moved the new stuff there.]  
  
Groaning, she struggled to carry his armored and larger-built body. She finally found that if she supported him over her left shoulder and strapped the extendable utility belt around the two of them, she could barely manage a take off. It took every last power thruster she possessed to manage flying all the way to Grid Klyma.  
  
"G281withSpringer" At her voice-expressed password, a mid- section of the waterfall gave way to an opening large enough for a transformer. Once inside the dimly lit cave, she searched for the CR unit. It appeared in its own section of the cave, restored and ready for use in a cylindrical basin of flowing fluid. [May Primus bless your spark, Silverbolt.] Grabbing an additional first-aid kit, she settled the comatose Predacon down, and began the lengthy repair procedures.  
  
******************************************************************  
  
"Hey Optimus," yelled Cheetor after the Predacons had fully retreated, "where's Maybelle?"  
  
The leader transformed back into his gorilla beast-mode.  
  
"What, she was present when we dealt with Terrorsaur. And with her training and background, I don't believe that she would leave a mission without permission unless she had a pretty good reason."  
  
"Maybe she's hurt," cried Cheetor while reloading his phasar rifle.  
  
"Let's head back to base then. Try contacting her via comlink." The feline bot was about to ask more, when Dinobot's echoing curses drew their attention away.  
  
"Slag!" he screamed, "where is that coward's confounded body?"  
  
"Something bothering you, Chopper-face?" The velociraptor whirled around to stare at Rattrap who was grinning up at him cheekily. Amusement did not shine through Dinobot's features.  
  
"The enemy Terrorsaur! I saw him land somewhere behind those mounds. But curses, where is he now??"  
  
"Maybe another Predacon recovered him when we were occupied," suggested Optimus in an attempt calm down his soldier.  
  
Dinobot shook his head. "Drat, we could have salvaged a prisoner."  
  
"Hey," added Rattrap, who had been smirking the whole time, "we could lock you in a cell and poke ya for fun!"  
  
"Shut up, Vermin!"  
  
"Guys, cut it out! I wanna get through to Mabe," snapped Cheetor. After several unsuccessful tries, he lowered his head resignedly.  
  
"Optimus, let's head back to base…"  
  
******************************************************************  
  
Maybelle felt a strange sensation as she gently cleaned his deep wounds. [This shouldn't be happening…completely unacceptable.] There was some familiarity to this whole scenario. Sudden images flashed across her mind. Shots of past friends, comrades, enemies… The recollection made her cringe.  
  
[I don't know why I'm saving him.]  
  
Was it some sort of an attraction? Impossible, she didn't even know his name. She just knew he had suffered immense damages and needed immediate treatment.  
  
[Bravery, righteousness, compassion, those were traits that the Autobots valued the most…]  
  
However, her focus kept returning to his face. It was a remarkable shade of white, perfect in contrast with his red coloring. Embarrassingly, she found his features rather handsome. Too bad she couldn't get any character out them cause he was temporarily out. You silly bot, she scolded herself, your mind's losing it. It was impossible for the two of them to be even the most remote of friends.  
  
[You pathetic traitor…]  
  
The accusation came from within, as though a part of her was berating the actions she had taken. Ironically, with each repetition of the phrase, she found herself agreeing with the forceful, negative voice.  
  
2 [Pathetic traitor…]  
  
[I only saved him because that would be too unsatisfactory of a death,]  
  
[ Liar, you saved him because he showed some wavering Autobot characteristic.]  
  
[That's not true…]  
  
3 [ Then prove it!]  
  
Complying, she gradually activated the wrist-mounted laser in her possession, and slowly aimed the weapon at his unmoving head.  
  
[Shoot him…he's a Predacon…descendant of your sworn enemies.]  
  
His helpless condition stopped her from firing that shot, and her arm began to tremble. A rare feeling of vulnerability and defenselessness overcame her. Sighing, she immersed his body into the harmoniously glowing lavender CR fluid.  
  
[I'm only saving a casualty of war…]  
  
This she had to repeat to herself over and over.  
  
  
  
******************************************************************  
  
"Why hasn't Terrorsaur returned from our last mission?" Megatron, still obviously furious with their recent failure to secure the energon supply, demanded those assembled in the spacious command center. All present shrugged, not remembering or wanting to volunteer what had happened to the smart-mouthed pterodactyl during the confrontation. Of course except Waspinator, who either didn't notice Megatron's foul mood, or decided for once that he would be the brave one to talk.  
  
"Bzzzzz, Wazzpinator saw Terrorsaur get shot by Optimus. Didn't see him after that…" Megatron glared at the oversized insect, who may have done better to simply keep his mouth shut.  
  
"Fool! Let's hope that he wasn't captured by those insolent Maximals. That idiot would disclose every secret we have." In disgust, he dismissed his units.  
  
[ Then again, Terrorsaur's untimely disappearance might prove more useful to me than I thought.]A smug smile eventually spread across that malevolent faceplate, as his aerial commander's absence no longer concerned him as it had before.  
  
  
  
******************************************************************  
  
[What I wouldn't give for a hefty recharge session…]  
  
This was the second day that she had treated the Predacon. Much of the work she had done involved delicate instrumental surgery, especially when it came to the vital system located around his spark. Precision from her was crucial, and only within the last two cycles had he shown evident signs of recovery.  
  
[Wake up, please!]  
  
The beeping of her desk comlink startled her from the cleanup of equipment. Exhausted, she turned to switch the annoying contraption on.  
  
"Maybelle here," she said into it.  
  
"Mabe," came the relieved voice of Silverbolt, "are you alright?! Your sudden disappearance had everyone ready to conduct a planet-wide search."  
  
"Everything's fine," she replied, feeling a twinge of guilt for lying, "I just had some minor damages to take care of."  
  
"You should have returned to base for that. Never mind, report back immediately! Optimus is about to launch a search party, and there's an update that needs to be discussed."  
  
She was about to agree, when a weak moan escaped from her Predacon tenant's lithe form. Involuntarily, she gasped in surprise.  
  
"What's wrong?" demanded Silverbolt in alarm.  
  
"N-nothing," came her awkward reply, while she scrambled to collect herself, "I'll be there in half a cycle."  
  
Quickly switching off the comlink, she slid gracefully over to where the occupant lay. His hands were moving slightly, showing that he was finally coming around. Hesitantly, she gazed abruptly at the recovering Predacon.  
  
"You're going to make it," she almost whispered, "I'll return you to your own faction. I may be a fool, but I can't choose whose life I end up saving." She hurried to lift him so he could be transported back to where she would no doubt forget him and the whole incident.  
  
Terrorsaur felt himself come-to with the worst headache he could ever recall having. [What the slag happened?] Last thing he remembered was a sharp pain in his chest region while a glowing mass hurtled towards his temporarily suspended form.  
  
He tried flexing an arm, but it caused every sensory strand in that area to sting with explosive complaints. Unable to bear it, he groaned in pain. To his immense surprise though, a voice was heard in the shady background.  
  
[The voice belongs to…Silverbolt??]  
  
Shocked beyond compare, he began to panick. [Where the pit am I???]  
  
Suddenly, Silverbolt's voice was replaced by one that sounded characteristically female. He couldn't associate it with any Maximal or Predacon he knew. With great effort, his auditory sensors detected the crisp steps of the speaker who approached him. He desperately tried to focus his visual system, but the strained optics still projected an image that came out fuzzy and static. All he could make out was a slender form that bent over and seemed to observe him.  
  
The sound of her voice, clear as purified energon resonance, filled his sensors.  
  
"You're going to make it," he heard her say. Although he couldn't identify her, the words he heard were comforting and calmed him immensely. He longed to see the owner of that voice, but a sudden pain spasm rippling across his vital system sent his mind reeling. He slowly blacked out as he heard her whisper, "I can't choose whose life I end up saving…"  
  
******************************************************************  
  
[ This is a good spot.]  
  
The Darkside was still quite a few paces away, but her cloaking armlet only worked to a certain extent. [Have to see Rhinox about that when I get back.] A smooth molten boulder lay in front of her, a trademark of the volcanic environment the Predacon base so happened to have chosen as its resting place. Carefully, she placed the body onto the earthen surface, hoping desperately that no Predacons could see her.  
  
With a final glance at the one who owed her life itself, she transformed seamlessly into her jet mode and left.  
  
[One of your comrades will find you, Predacon. And the next time we meet, our only method of communication shall be through gunfire.]  
  
  
  
******************************************************************  
  
"Megatron, good news!" An excited Scorponok barged into the almost empty command center, eager to please his leader with fresh news.  
  
"What are you babbling about?"  
  
"Inferno has discovered Terrorsaur's body just 20 meters east from the base!" As if on cue, a pleased-looking Inferno marched in, dragging Terrorsaur's unconscious form behind him.  
  
"Hmph, the idiot must have somehow crawled back. Very well, at least now I won't have to waste time prying him from Maximal clutches. Inferno! Take him to the CR Chamber. I want him online as soon as possible!" The large fire ant bowed, and left again dragging his comrade's limp body with him.  
  
Megatron dismissed the issue, not giving much care at the moment to his aerial commander. There were much more important things at hand… 


	4. Assessment

Entering the Axalon, Maybelle was immediately seized by the strong grasp of Silverbolt, who dragged her around a blind corner of the base. "At last you're back. Do you realize how much I've been sweating trying to cover for you?"  
  
The panic in his voice frightened her for a moment; it was unlike Silverbolt to be fretting over something so trivial.  
  
"What does our leader say?"  
  
He was looking her over, as if checking for battle scars that had been temporarily coated with pink and silver paint to deceive him.  
  
"It's not often that Optimus gets this worried," he explained, "I let Cheetor in on the story, and he's helping me convince our commander that you said you'd return soon."  
  
His expression, however, disclosed that there was more on his mind than simply the upcoming explanation she had to give Optimus.  
  
"Anything else, Silver?"  
  
He was uncomfortably riveted between telling her about what he had accidentally discovered in the hideout, and simply denying he had ever seen anything out of the ordinary. [She's been pretty hostile towards the Decepticons in general, who knows how she'll react if I tell her there's one resting for eternity at the back of her private residence.] It would be best for all concerned if Maybelle never found out about the Decepticon Lennix.  
  
"Nothing, just make sure you know what to say once we're in there."  
  
Both of them slowed their quick pace just outside the double doors, trying to collect themselves before the entire crew, and upset commander. Indeed, once through the doors, Optimus' unimpressed guise was the first thing she had to face.  
  
"Commander," she started in a salutatory voice, "I'm ready to explain my actions over the past two days. I'm also ready to accept any reprimand you may deliver on your part."  
  
Optimus gave her a quick scan over, and narrowed his red optics. Although she was his elder by centuries, the firm hierarchy of command she had been taught to accept with no arguments caused her to feel slightly nervous at his superior position. However, the first words he spoke to her were a shocker.  
  
"Any damages on you?" His optics glowed gently, filled more with concern than accusation.  
  
"Y-yes, only minor though, I'm fine. I realize my actions were unforgivable, taking leave without first informing another crewmember."  
  
Nodding, he approached her, where she stood rigid with attention, not sure that this was the same leader who had previously come close to calling her a maniac. He placed a firm hand on her shoulder; the touch caused her to flinch slightly, but then relax as he spoke in an official tone.  
  
"See to it that it won't happen again."  
  
With a tiny smile breaking through her stern features, she nodded.  
  
"Understood."  
  
"Then you're dismissed."  
  
******************************************************************  
  
"I can't believe that. Was it just good luck or what?"  
  
Still thoroughly stunned by Optimus' reaction to her take off, Maybelle was conversing with Silverbolt about what personality change the commander had undergone.  
  
"No, Optimus just realized that you're not some irresponsible, unknowledgeable, and unaccomplished bot that needs to be safeguarded from everything. He knows that you can handle yourself, and he's letting himself trust your better judgment."  
  
"Finally," she whispered wearily, as they reentered the command center after grabbing their day rations.  
  
"Hey Mabe, long time no see there!"  
  
"Thanks Rattrap, it's good to be back." She smiled, still remembering that behind that small frame was the mind of a genius, at least when it came to explosives. Happily, she seated herself at the console beside Airazor. The other femme welcomed her openly.  
  
"Thank Cybertron nothing happened to you. Cheetor was convinced that you were nursing a near-death injury."  
  
I was, she grimaced inwardly, only I wasn't the one injured.  
  
"Thanks for telling me that,"  
  
Their conversation was cut short as Cheetor dashed into the command center.  
  
"Mabe, yikes!" He skidded to a halt, inches from crashing into her and the computer console stationed inches from them. His respirator heaved to accommodate his short breaths, as his words came out short and broken.  
  
"W-we, w-w-were worried."  
  
"Everything's good Cheetor, thanks for caring." His teenage attitude was cute, in a weird way. But she felt she could understand what he was going through during such a period. [Hot Rod…that was who he had first reminded her of. Of course, before the Rodimus Prime transformation, he had been that eager to attract attention, and prove himself to others.] The memory was pleasing, but she knew that it would begin to hurt if she continued to recall it.  
  
Dinobot acknowledged her from his corner in his usual moody fashion. She felt like he distanced himself from her, partly because of his Predacon history. Still, she felt no ill towards him; he was just another comrade now fighting for the same cause. Just then Optimus and Rhinox, both in robot form, walked in.  
  
"Maybelle, unfortunately you won't be able to settle in too comfortably after your return. I have another mission assignment ready to go." He made his way over to the main computer console. "An unidentified pod has landed in Grid Scavals. It could be a Maximal protoform, but our sensors don't seem to be identifying it as such." He turned to address the entire team. "It's in Pred territory, so caution is needed. Maybelle, you and Rattrap will come with me while Airazor and Tigatron support us. Speed is a necessity in this case."  
  
Maybelle nodded, and just happened to catch the scowl on Rattrap's face. He wasn't enjoying being put on a joint mission with someone he had referred to as his great-aunt. This is going to be interesting, she thought with hidden amusement.  
  
  
  
******************************************************************  
  
"So you are back online, yesss?" Terrorsaur tried to stifle a yawn, but it ended up looking wrong so he lowered his head instead.  
  
"Good. You and Waspinator weren't here when I made my announcement. I will have to inform you both as well." Rolling his optics, Terrorsaur wondered what the next unfortunate target was on Megatron's endless list. [Just back online and already being sent back to get my hind shot.]  
  
The commander moved his cyber chair closer to them.  
  
[Intimidation gets kinda old too.]  
  
His mind was far from the mission, or whatever it was that Megatron was currently blabbing about. [Probably asking us why we failed on the last mission, followed by a chain of his usual demeaning insults.]  
  
Instead, the memory of the unknown speaker was vividly imprinted in his mental workings. [So she saved me…] It didn't make any slaggin' sense. [Could she possibly know me…but wait, if she knows Silverbolt, then she's probably a Maximal!]  
  
In a swirl of utter confusion, he recalled her last words.  
  
[I can't choose who I end up saving.]  
  
He finally decided it wasn't worth overworking his concentration on the speaker's identity, and to instead just be glad he was still alive.  
  
"We have learnt that there is a new member among the Maximals. But the most curious thing is that she's not a Maximal!" Terrorsaur immediately snapped out of his drowsy state. The unknown voice once again resurfaced from his memory banks.  
  
"Scorponok, show them the clip." The obedient scorpion-bot produced a cyber bee and hooked it into the visual projector. With a tap, it projected a shot just recently taken.  
  
"This," explained Megatron, "is a zoomed in shot of her wing blade. Do you recognize the symbol?"  
  
Curiously, the aerial commander stared at the image. A purple symbol was painted onto the pink wing blade, and when he finally recognized it, he doubled over with shock. "She's a…a…a-"  
  
"An Autobot!", bellowed Megatron, "Yesss, I could hardly believe it myself, but it's quite true. Therefor, I've decided to invite her to our base for a friendly chat."  
  
Terrorsaur was speechless.  
  
"H-how iz that possible," buzzed his flying companion, "all the Autobots are extinct!"  
  
"That's precisely what I want to find out. I have already designed a trap for the foolish Maximals."  
  
"We have?"  
  
"Oh yess, rest assured. Even as we speak Inferno, Tarantulus, Quickstrike, and Blackarachnia are carrying it out. I won't tolerate failure this time" To emphasize that point, the Predacon leader bore into the optics of his minions. "Both of you head for Grid Scavals right now, and make sure that female Autobot is brought back at all costs!"  
  
Terrorsaur, lost in his own train of thought, didn't budge. [Could it be her? Waitaminute,I was saved by a female Autobot???]  
  
He would have continued his statue-like pose, had Megatron not ordered Waspinator to kick him.  
  
"Both of you, get going!!"  
  
With the still reluctant figure of Terrorsaur dragged out of the dark command center, Megatron scowled and turned his undivided attention back to the projected image.  
  
1 [Could it possibly be that, the Autobots had some way of… foreseeing my plans?]  
  
As he was accustomed to when pondering any issue seriously, Megatron began running his free hand smoothly over the t-rex head that was attached to his other arm. Stroking thoughtfully, with his faceplate scrunched in utter concentration, he carefully considered the possibility.  
  
[An agent they have sent through the timewarp to ensure that I don't succeed.] He chuckled, as he often did when faced with an endearing situation. [We shall find out for ourselves, and if it so happens she is an agent from the past, I shall destroy her before she can alert her doomed counterparts.]  
  
  
  
******************************************************************  
  
[This doesn't feel right.]  
  
Something she couldn't place nagged at her, but Maybelle had decided against sharing her thoughts with Optimus and Rattrap. They didn't seem bothered by anything, and unnecessary alarm would just make them edgy. Rattrap was holding on for dear life aboard Optimus' back, avidly complaining away.  
  
"I can't believe this, sacrifice the rat already," Landing was a relief, for Rattrap's constant mumbling was getting lowering her capacity for tolerance. The pod smoked in it's crashed state, embedded halfway into the dry, red earth.  
  
"Lemme check it out," volunteered Rattrap as he transformed. Maybelle looked anxiously for signs of Airazor and Tigatron. [Hope they get here soon…]  
  
"Inferno, TERRORIZE!"  
  
She whipped to face the enemy, and immediately saw the large Predacon hit  
  
Rattrap dead on with a direct bullet shot.  
  
"Eeeeaiiieee!"  
  
Meanwhile, Blackarachnia had appeared to her left along with Quickstrike, and began firing shots at Optimus who was in the open.  
  
"Maybelle," he yelled, "get out of here we've been ambushed!"  
  
Undaunted, she took to the air and fired her wrist-mounted blaster at the ant-bot. She and Optimus were out-numbered, but the immediate task at hand was to save the comatose Rattrap. A hawk's shriek met her mid-air, as she glanced in relief to see Airazor rapidly approaching. "Airazor, MAXIMIZE!" The female flyer charged towards Blackarachnia, and the battle was taken to a new level of siege.  
  
*****************************************************************  
  
When Terrorsaur first caught sight of Grid Scavals, it was pretty obvious the assault had been carried out in full-force. "Waspinator," he commanded decisively, "help take down Optimus and I'll go for the hawk." He took off at maximum speed in an angle until he was within shooting range. [That bitch is going to get hers today.]  
  
"Terrorsaur, TERRORIZE!"  
  
His scanners located Airazor, who was busy confronting both Blackarachnia and Quickstrike, though neither was making any serious attempts to disable her. With his blaster in hand, he would have blown the hated Maximal away, when he suddenly saw her. A pink/silver form zipped gracefully through the gunfire at astonishing speed. Flying skills that rivaled his own, which he had always considered to be unmatched.  
  
He all but forgot the battle as he observed her slender form land beside that of the unconscious Rattrap. [Could it be her?] Her beautiful face was etched with concern for her comrade. The life those mauve optics radiated…  
  
"Maybelle!"  
  
Terrorsaur's attention snapped to Optimus, who was evidently trying to get her to leave. "No," she called back equally determined, "if you think I'm the type to desert friends in battle, you're dead wrong!"  
  
[That voice…] There was no doubt in his mind that she had been his rescuer. To his alarm, Tarantulus suddenly materialized behind her crouched form.  
  
"Watch out!" His own warning sounded at the exact time as Optimus'. Unable to prevent the situation, he heard the distinct "thwap" as a projectile hit her squarely in the back. Petrified, he didn't move either as he saw her get up to retaliate, but crumple back to the ground before a step was even taken.  
  
  
  
******************************************************************  
  
Between blasts of laser fire and war cries, Maybelle struggled to find Rattrap. In the distance, two new forms took shape across the horizon. [They had better not be Predacons.] Ignoring all else, she finally saw Rattrap lying on one side of the pod, rigid in status-lock. Hurriedly, she landed by him and scanned his condition. He wasn't critically damaged, but immediate attention was needed. Meanwhile, Optimus was still yelling for her to leave. She crouched beside her comrade's head, hoping to conduct a quick diagnosis.  
  
"Watch out!" Two voices cried simultaneously at her above the usual racket. One she could pick out to be Optimus, but the other slightly more higher-pitched one she couldn't identify. However, both warnings were too late, for she instantly felt the sharp puncture of an object into her back.  
  
[Cybervenom!] She recognized the deadly substance with alarm, and leapt up to find her assailant. But too soon, a numb sensation started from her chest and made its way to all her limbs.  
  
No… All she could manage was a silent cry, before she hit the ground forcefully and blackness overcame her.  
  
  
  
******************************************************************  
  
"Wahoo," screamed Inferno as he blasted his flamethrower once more for good measure, "we have the prisoner! RETREAT!" He swooped to where the cataleptic Maybelle lay, swung her over his shoulder, and took off. Tarantulus and Blackarachnia continued firing at Optimus and Airazor who were falling back. Within moments, the Predacons had pulled clear of the area, hurrying on their way back to the Darkside.  
  
"Bzzz, Wazzpinator love victories. And wasp-bot not get slagged this time."  
  
"Speak for yourself," grumbled the black widow, who had lost two pairs of spider legs during the attack.  
  
"Never mind," Inferno bellowed officially, as his chest heaved up and down with pride, "our mission is accomplished. The royalty shall be pleased, that is all that matters."  
  
Silently, Terrorsaur flew with Waspinator above the rest. He kept looking at the female Autobot who was presently draped lifelessly over Inferno's shoulder. Unconsciously, he worried about her condition.  
  
"Tarantulus, what type of ammo did you shoot her with?"  
  
The question earned him a cackle from the mischievous mad- scientist. The arachnid was known for his regular attempts at experimenting with chemical and biological weaponry. Everyone, save Megatron, in Predacon ranks shuddered at the mere mention of Tarantulus' private lab.  
  
"Ah, my special dosage of cybervenom that knocks a Maximal out in three nanoclicks, but is dispelled from the system once one injects the antidote."  
  
The pterodactyl considered this thoughtfully. [What was I thinking, of course it's not lethal!]  
  
"Are you going to give her some soon?"  
  
"No, of course of not," snapped Tarantulus, who was now annoyed at the dactyl-bot's apparent nosiness, "I will give it to her when Megatron tells me to."  
  
Quickstrike, who had been soundlessly observing Terrorsaur's odd behavior the whole time, suddenly decided to question him outright. "What's it to ya, anyway huh? You don't got a crush on her now, do ya?"  
  
The rest of the Predacons burst into gleeful laughter, as Terrorsaur's face turned crimson to match his beast skin.  
  
"Just wondering, that's all!" His automatic shift into defensive mode only earned him more snickers from the cajoling bunch. Quickstrike, however, wouldn't let him off that easy.  
  
"Say, weren't you the one who was hollerin' with Optimus to warn the gal?"  
  
"N-no, you must have had your auditory canal blocked!"  
  
"Not possible," buzzed Waspinator, who believed that his flight companion had suffered enough for one day, "dactyl-bot would never help a she-bot."  
  
The last statement brought on a fresh burst of howling laughter, as the Predacons ridiculed the idea of Terrorsaur exhibiting chivalrous behavior.  
  
"It just sounded mighty like 'im, that's all," explained Quickstrike after the laughter had somewhat subdued. The issue, much to Terrorsaur's relief, was dropped, and he himself was more cautious to not let anyone else catch him staring at the prisoner.  
  
******************************************************************  
  
The darkness gradually subsided to a low, damp light that shone on her surroundings.  
  
[Captured…]  
  
With growing alarm, Maybelle took in her adverse situation. She was sitting with her back against the wall of what appeared to be a detention cell, the barren, gray metal walls easily identified it as such. Her hands were bound by energy chains that dug painfully into the thinner alloy around her wrists. [One thing sure leads to  
  
another…]BLAM!  
  
Her cell door was thrown open forcefully, letting in the giant arachnid Predacon she knew to be one of her captors.  
  
"My dear, you're in for a treat. Megatron doesn't usually go through such trouble for a mere guest." His voice cackled in a dissonance of vocal notes, make it mildly discordant to hear. The spider yanked her roughly to her feet, which were still numb from the retreating effects of the venom.  
  
"Everyone's waiting for your grand entrance in the command center, wouldn't want to keep them in suspense,"  
  
She followed him through the seeming endless dim corridors that comprised of the Darkside, fighting her initial impulse to deck the spider and run blindly through the base. It seemed bigger than the Axalon by far, and its setting over a volcanic pit gave it the appearance of an entryway to the Pit of Hell.  
  
The possibility of escaping went through her dozens of times, but how? The Predacon base layout was completely alien to her, and her low energy levels would only allow a click of airway if she managed to get out. Disheartened, she followed Tarantulus who had one claw securely holding the other end of her energy chain. He suddenly stopped in front of a large set of sliding double doors.  
  
[Their command center, well, death is inevitable.] A sharp yank on the other end pulled her into the black environment.  
  
She imagined that it was the land of the living she left, leaving behind the existence of everything she had known, to venture into the pit. Her guard led her on without a moment's hesitation, straight to an elevated platform that could be made out given the dimly lit room. A bright light focused on her as she was commanded to stand there. The light scorched into her optics, the searing pain slowly subsiding as she slowly adjusted to its harsh intensity.  
  
Despite, the relative darkness surrounding the pillar of light, she could sense him staring, observing her like predators of the night. [Enemies, descendants of the Decepticons.]  
  
Tarantulus disappeared into the shadows to join them, leaving her alone to face the imminent menace before her. Two glowing red optics emerged from the dark, soundlessly observing her every move. As more of the violet/black body became visible, Maybelle recognized him to be the "Megatron" of the Beast Wars. The most cunning and ruthless of Predacons, Optimus had warned her beforehand.  
  
"Well, well, so this is the last Autobot to remain, yesss?"  
  
His voice was nothing like that of the original Megatron, who's voice was a sheer metallic screech. No, this Predacon leader had a voice that was smooth and low, yet concealed some visibly dangerous undertones. This chilled her, as she racked her head for a way to deal with this imminent threat.  
  
"Your name, my dear,"  
  
[Answer him, be proud…he can cause you no worse harm than death.]  
  
"I am Maybelle, warrior and communications ambassador to the Autobot faction."  
  
The overbearing tyrant grinned. So long as she answered his questions, then he had everything under control. "Ah, just as I've suspected. But there is hardly anything about you in the databank, other than an excerpt saying a select few know your true identity." He paused, carefully observing her rigid, silver/pink form as he scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Now, how do go about convincing us that you are not an agent sent by Prime himself to foil my plans?"  
  
[What is he talking about? How could Prime have possibly predicted the Maximal/Predacon clash was to occur?]  
  
"Answer me!!!"  
  
Although she knew nothing of what he was insinuating about her role, the Autobot set her mind to infuriate the Predacon leader so much, that he would quickly exterminate her out of rage. Angling her optics straight at him, she smirked and said in an unwavering voice, "Go to the pit, Predacon scum."  
  
Never before, had Megatron been so belittled by another being. He had always been a threat, a prominent force to be reckoned with in one way or another. The reality that this was all coming from a femme bot only added insult on top of the scathing injury. Those who stood nearest to him, Quickstrike and Scorponok, could hear the grinding screech of metal on metal, as their leader tightened his ruthless hold on the arms of his cyber chair. They exchanged uneasy looks, guessing that the next time Megatron moved, it would be to terminate a life. Megatron considered disposing of her then and there, but on further examination decided that such rash actions would in no way benefit him.  
  
"Stubborn…I see. That is one attribute you Autobots have not learned yet to abolish."  
  
He motioned with a grand wave of his arm, to Tarantulus who reappeared and attached an electric terminal to her neck. Two long channel chords ran from the clasp, leading to where, she didn't particularly want to find out. Done setting up the mechanism, Tarantulus muttered under his breath loud enough so only she could hear.  
  
"If you quit being stupid and just answer whatever he wants, you'd be doing yourself a favor." He then returned to his former spot, indifferently as though no exchange between them had occurred.  
  
"Since Miss Maybelle insists on prolonging her stay, then we must make it more interesting, yesss?" The sudden impact she received sent her crashing head first to the floor. Volts of electrical impulses were relayed through her system, causing unbearable pain to eat away at the sensitive circuits. Her auditory receivers rung with a deafening buzz, while her head seemed to pressurize to the point of bursting. Clenching her teeth, the scorching pain was unbearable as she tried thrashing away to ease the agony.  
  
[I must be a pitiful sight.]  
  
A crouching, feeble form in the eyes of her enemies, whom she could almost hear laughing in sick enjoyment.  
  
[I'll just pretend that I'm already dead…]  
  
******************************************************************  
  
Throughout her interrogation, Terrorsaur watched with nothing short of rapt fascination that first began when he heard the clear echoes of her heels against the base floor. That slender body, though utterly feminine, stood strong and unwavering the face of almost certain destruction that loomed in the distant.  
  
Of course she was attractive, that shapely pink/silver body couldn't deny her less than such; but what really surprised and entranced the Predacon aerial commander, was the look on her face that radiated her unique self across the void atmosphere of the room. Sheer defiance shone from those brilliant optics, illuminating her pale, delicate faceplate. Few Maximals would have dared given the renegade Megatron such a look, and certainly no Predacon on this planet would attempt one anytime soon. [She's amazing…]  
  
His entranced speculation, however, soon dissolved into horror when he realized what fate awaited her at the unforgiving hands of his leader.  
  
[Is she nuts?! No one speaks to ol'Megs that way without getting it back ten-fold in the keister!] By the time the first energy wave came in contact with her spirited form, Terrorsaur believed her to be as good as dead. She twitched, a helpless form on the floor who was completely at the mercy of that ruthless tyrant, while waves of energy seem to ignite every last fibrillary strand in her system.  
  
[Great Cybertron, it would be a pity for someone like her to die like such. One could use a bot like that…] He spent the next few urgent nanoclicks racking his cerebral workings for a way to possibly save her.  
  
******************************************************************  
  
2 [Let me die…]  
  
Maybelle considered ripping her spark out of its cavity, to simply die and go where she should have gone centuries ago. When the pulsating currents suddenly stopped harassing her feeble body, she weakly scrambled to her knees, aware of the mech fluid that dripped from her forehead and had formed in her mouth. [He can't be letting me off that quickly…]  
  
"Terrorsaur," the authoritative voice of Megatron thundered over her own rapid respiration, "what is the meaning of this delay?!" She lifted a tired, exhausted head to watch as a figure emerged, advancing its way into the light. When the light finally shone on him, she gasped in recognition. The red/silver workings on his familiar form unmistakably identified him as the Predacon she had saved from near-death.  
  
"Megatron," he started in a characteristicly higher-pitched voice. She had never heard him actually speak, and couldn't say his words comforted her. "This obviously isn't working. What does Tarantulus here know about efficient torture? To get our prisoner to talk, you must subject her to more 'effective' means."  
  
[He means to cause me more harm.]  
  
Resigned to her awful fate, the Autobot hung her head in both shame and sorrow. [I saved an enemy, and now I am paying the price for that foolish act with more than my life.]  
  
She didn't catch Megatron's broad smile as he eyed the usually cocky dactyl-bot.  
  
"Very well… Inferno! Move the prisoner to cell B-72, and let us see what our dear Terrorsaur can manage given his overly confident words." The red/silver transformer threw his leader a sarcastic smirk, which no one else caught. Once again, Maybelle longed for the release death gave, before passing out onto the hard floor.  
  
******************************************************************  
  
When Cheetor first caught sight of the look on Optimus' Primal's face, a sick feeling had started in his inner cavity recesses. By the time the remaining Maximals had joined him to watch the disheveled appearances of their crewmembers, the feeling had turned into full-blown pain contracted his spark.  
  
"Optimus, where's Maybelle?" The answer, to all present, was somewhat obvious, but all the same, the Maximal commander let out a defeated sight.  
  
"The Preds have her…the whole status pod scenario was a trap." The dismal looks that Airazor and Tigatron reflected, as they carried Rattrap's unmoving form to the CR chamber, only confirmed the undeniable fact.  
  
"We gotta get her back! There's no telling what those stinkin' Preds will do to her, given her Autobot identity." The statement was echoed by Silverbolt, who suggested that an immediate prison raid be carried out. As contributing voices filled the command center to an unbearable noise level, Optimus raised his hand with the efficiency of long- term practice, and called for silence.  
  
"There's no doubt that the Preds won't spare her, so a rescue party will have to be assembled. Only we're all basically unfamiliar with their base layout, not to mention we aren't even positive where they'll place her."  
  
"And if she's going to still be alive by the time we get there at this rate," The cheetah-bot's sharp comment was shushed by Tigatron who stood beside him.  
  
"Little cat, I believe Optimus is certain that no immediate harm will come to her. Hence, he is taking his time to carefully plan our strategy."  
  
While the two felines conversed in hushed tones, Silverbolt made his way up to the commander.  
  
"Optimus?"  
  
"Are you volunteering the lead the raid?"  
  
"No," the fuzor replied, clearing his throat before continuing, "I believe that I know how to proceed with this assault on the Pred base."  
  
******************************************************************  
  
Reawaking from a long unintended blackout was not high on Maybelle's priority list, and certainly not something she would have offered to do twice in one waking day. With the freezing, metallic floor digging roughly into her sensitive cheek alloy, she cleared away the mental cobwebs to re-establish the function of her aching, stiff joints.  
  
"Finally you're online! Feeling okay?" Her head snapped reflexively upwards to meet the speaker with that remembered voice, only to see the familiar red Predacon staring down questioningly at her.  
  
"You've got a lot of nerve…" She spat fiercely while employing her hands to raise her complaining body. Chuckling at the tought act she employed, he lowered himself to her level, and reached for her. The sudden abruptness of his actions caused more alarm than he bargained for; to Maybelle, it didn't matter if he was attempting to help her up or deal her a fatal blow, she struck at his approaching form, then struggled aggressively to get up.  
  
Unfortunately, her limbs were dangerously weak now due to decreased energy levels, and not accustomed to sudden use after the abuse they'd suffered. Soon as she found herself three quarters of the way to a standing position, her legs gave out methodically from under her.  
  
It was more humiliating to the panicking femme, however, when she discovered that luck would have her collapse right into the Predacon's arms. Frantic and infuriated, the only response she could evoke in that struggling moment was a hateful glare that burned even her own optics. Tears of humility came close to forming, remorse for her body's own present weaknesses.  
  
"I'll kill you if you don't remove your hands this instant," she warned scathingly. The tone she employed was chilling to the core, and on any other occasion would have stopped Terrorsaur cold in his tracks. This time, though, with a lovely yet dangerous femme in his unintended embrace, the warrior felt a strange need to somehow prove he was a force beyond any means of control other than his own.  
  
Continuing his firm hold around her slight form, he smiled down with amusement playing in those devious red optics.  
  
"Such an impressive threat. Although, it would be rather interesting to watch you claim my spark in your present predicament." His impudence enraged her to the point of coughing up reserve energon.  
  
"You jerk!!"  
  
"I was right," he chuckled lightly, "you are more attractive when angry. Anyhow, since I'm bound to get my head blown off once your energy's restored, I may as well make the most of what insignificant life span I have left."  
  
He lowered his face, till it was centimeters from her madly flushed one. His voice, a low whisper, blew against her faceplate in a warm, slick breeze.  
  
" Meaning…I'll be a jerk if I want to."  
  
Collecting all the reserve strength she possibly had left, along with the driving force sparked by overwhelming fury, she slapped him across the face…hard. It left a stinging mark, though more to his portly ego than anything else.  
  
Furious, he immediately released the Autobot, and reached reflexively for the holster containing his blaster. Completely deprived of potential to stop him, Maybelle knew what she had done would only bring an earlier death upon herself. A similar thought raced through Terrorsaur's head, as he prepared to target the murderous weapon at a vital point.  
  
He would have ended her overdue existence there in his fit of fury, but the sight of her now entirely limp body evoked a response he had never before considered, much less carry out: the aerial commander lowered his weapon from an open target. With her optics focused calmly to the ceiling of that diminutive cell, she looked almost in wait of a peaceful, oncoming death.  
  
[Shoot, she did save me, and Primus knows she doesn't deserve to die like this.]  
  
Dropping his blaster to the ground with a resonating clank, the dactyl-bot suffused a long, internal sigh, then walked over to pick up her frail body.  
  
[Primus, he isn't killing me now, she panicked in renewed alarm, he's decided to have me undergo more hell, then finish me off.] To her astonishment, the red/silver Predacon didn't even remove her from the cell expanse. Instead, he laid her gently against the smooth, cell wall, then stood up to fetch a flask he had brought earlier. The glowing, pink liquid was unmistakably energon, which he predicted that she would need to improve all aspects of her functioning.  
  
"Drink this," he offered indifferently, handing the precious substance over to her almost immobile form. The survival mechanism that was still at work in her receding condition forced an arm to weakly grasp the flask, that was then brought to her lips and downed in long, greedy gulps. The effects of the miracle liquid was almost immediate, as she felt her systems recover to a more efficient speed. All the while, Terrorsaur observed her in muted silence, taking in the picture of one who was so strong-willed, yet so vulnerable.  
  
Feeling her systems flicker with renewed vigor, Maybelle sat up straight to tenderly massage the sore circuits around her neck. Terrorsaur, after such a scenario they had just gone through, now felt at a loss for introductions. [Hell, I sure let things off to a bad start…]  
  
"As you might have heard, I'm Terrorsaur, Predacon aerial commander." The proudly declared statement only earned him a baleful glare that would have withered any confidence those words had given him into atomic dust.  
  
"Whoa," his optics widened in mock surprise, "you better be more careful when throwing that look around. It could kill."  
  
"That's my intention," she hissed, "you're a bastard to volunteer as my, my 'torturer'…"  
  
"Hey!" His red arms instantly shot up in protest and self-defense. "If it wasn't for my brilliant idea of bringing you here, you'd still be up there getting the electric chair treatment from ol' Megs." Ignoring him, she continued the methodical massage of inflamed joints on her legs.  
  
"Listen, I really shouldn't be here, but we need to discuss how to get you out of-"  
  
"I don't need your charity," she snapped, "you're the same as the rest of them, Predacon scum!" The outburst caused him to clearly wince, but regaining his sly attitude, retorted:  
  
"So it's worth it to you to save something whose significance is parallel with scum?"  
  
The question did touch a sore point in her mental recollections; up until now she couldn't deftly figure out whether she should perish for her crime against the Autobot legion. Nevertheless, she wasn't prepared to give a cheeky Predacon the satisfaction of seeing through to her inner hesitations.  
  
"I really regret saving you," she stated simply, flatly without emotion.  
  
Now, he was ticked. [What gives… I'm trying my slaggin' best to be civil, and she's just treating me like scrap that she can throw around as she pleases.]  
  
He got up and whirled sharply on his heel, ready to storm out of the insufferable cell. [Wait, she's not going to get the satisfaction of driving me off.]  
  
Maybelle was sitting absentmindedly against the cell wall, as though completely unaware of his recent tirade. Clearing his voice box, the dactyl- bot made an effort to get her attention.  
  
"Just one thing I'd like to find out: why do you hate us so much? What the slaggin' hell did we ever do to you?!"  
  
He hadn't really expected to elicit a response out of her with that blunt question; it was more of a frustrated outburst instigated by her icy attitude. So he was genuinely surprised when she gave a sharp, bitter laugh in response. The sound was so unlike anything he'd ever heard before, even in his moderately short Cybertronian existence, and he'd never in a millions Vorns expected such a cynical response from someone that had her charming outlook.  
  
"Your ancestors, the Decepticons, took away the life that was mine, my friends, and future! And what do I find after this forsaken realization dawned on me? I can't even seek to wreak vengeance on those responsible because I've accidentally overslept a few centuries!!"  
  
The torn agony gave way to a series of muffled noises, and Terrorsaur wasn't close enough to distinguish if they were masked sobs or threats condemning his ancestors and their line in general.  
  
"In fact," she continued after a lengthy pause, "I'd start by disposing of Megatron." Those words, he could relate to, as his optics suddenly lit up with interest.  
  
"Oh, why?"  
  
"Because he's the leader of your damned faction, and has the original Megatron's namesake."  
  
[Really now…this could be rather useful.] Terrorsaur mused over his own ponderings. Re-approaching the femme, though with added caution this time, he changed his tone to one of false sympathy.  
  
"I agree with you entirely. If you destroy Megatron, you'll be doing Maximals and Predacons alike an immense favor." Confused by his sudden rant, she turned to stare at him across the cell.  
  
"What do you mean? He's the mighty leader who's supposed to lead you and the rest your ambitious group to some golden utopia he's no doubt promised you."  
  
"That's where you're wrong," he smiled ruefully, placing a hand under his chin, "I for one believe that he's an abhorrent tyrant who deserves to spend the rest of meaningless existence rotting away in a Maximal prison." He emitted a sigh, while pacing towards her in long, even strides. "Most of my comrades seem to share those sentiments, but they're either too afraid of our diabolical leader, or have simply signed themselves to a life of brainless serving to take an action."  
  
He tried to catch the reaction on her face by casually glancing in her direction. She was eying him skeptically, her fingers drummed mechanically on her thigh.  
  
"And you're the lone, valiant warrior who dares stand up to his mightiness?"  
  
"Precisely!"  
  
"I don't believe any of that. What's in it for you?"  
  
"Well, the pleasure of seeing Megatron get his just desserts is a good enough bonus."  
  
Grinning secretively, he crouched down to face her, an earnest flash in the ruby optics he observed her with. "So how about it? As partners, there's no doubt we could overthrow his mightiness from that snug throne he's occupied for too long."  
  
Narrowing her optics into glowing mauve slits, a search for sincerity in this Predacon was all she hoped to find. "How do I know I can trust you?"  
  
He broke the intense gaze between them, and stood up in a slightly dejected way. "I'll guess we'll just have to wait and find out…"  
  
The red/silver transformer was cut off with a squawk, as a blast shaking the entire lower level of the ship sent him sprawling to the ground.  
  
"Slaggin' hell-"  
  
"WARNING! MAXIMAL SIGNATURE DETECTED AROUND BASE PERIMETER! SHIELDS AT 45%!"  
  
"They're here for me," Maybelle announced as she hastily got to her feet. [They're going through quite a ton of trouble for me.]  
  
"Well, tell the idiots to quit shooting like drunk maintenance bots," Terrorsaur muttered with a heavy scowl, "your 'heroes' just blew up the shield compressor across the hall. There's going to be cyclohexane all over the damn place!" Brushing himself off, he waved a commanding hand at her.  
  
"We gotta leave!" However, the barred titanium door wouldn't budge when he entered the access code. "Slaggit, what the hell's wrong with this thing?!" His fingers darted frantically across the keypad, panic taking form in his previously poised voice.  
  
"The exploding compressor probably took out the manual activation system on this level," Her own voice sounded worried as she struggled to keep a cool head, which one of them should keeping in such an urgent situation. [I'd hate to die pointlessly at Maximal hands.]  
  
Just as Terrorsaur was ready to ram the door, a familiar, blundering figure made its way down the prison hall.  
  
"Inferno, get us the hell out of here!"  
  
"The Royalty orders your presence on the upper level now."  
  
"I understand that you stupid drone, but the door isn't exactly allowing us a polished exit!"  
  
The other Predacon approached, a blank expression running across his usually ferocious features.  
  
"Do I have to remind you to do something," prompted the harried dactyl-bot. Inferno's optics suddenly brightened, as an idea formed in his usually barren cranial deposit.  
  
"I'll have you both out," he assured them with a grin, as he reached behind him to pull out his trusty flamethrower. Maybelle, horror-stricken, instantly sensed his intention.  
  
"He's going to try melting the door hinges,"  
  
"No," screamed her cellmate at the top of his voice synthesizer while pulling her hastily back into the cell depth with him, "you fool, you'll cause a-"  
  
The resulting explosion sent both him and Maybelle soaring back into opposite corners of the rather sturdy cell.  
  
"…You…idiot…"  
  
Her audio receivers picked up Terrorsaur's dazed mumblings a few feet away. Pulling herself up after the deafening impact, she crossed the floor and studied his condition.  
  
"You okay?" Slightly concerned, she pulled him up and judged his new appearance. A little black, but not too badly scorched.  
  
"My back plate is aching like hell," he complained while watching her.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah, but another area hurts even more,"  
  
"Where," she asked, forgetting temporarily that he was an enemy she had sworn to kill.  
  
"Right here," he stated indignantly, pointing to his face, in particular the left cheek that had been the earlier target of her quick, but deft hand. Maybelle covered her mouth to hide the escaping laugh she couldn't contain.  
  
"You really were asking for that one though,"  
  
He grinned. "I, ah, I'm sorry about what happened earlier…"  
  
"Fire boy made us an exit!" It felt wrong to cut him off, but she didn't exactly want to delve back into that awkward and embarrassing period. Terrorsaur opened his mouth to continue, but seeing she evidently didn't want to be reminded of that occurrence, shut it. True, the cell door had been completely blown off, hinges and all, carrying Inferno with it for another couple of meters. They exited the accursed cell, with Terrorsaur calling behind her the directions around the lower level maze.  
  
"To the right," her companion ordered, "there's an emergency hatch leading outside." Laser shots were heard acutely coming from the upper level, along with Megatron's enraged voice.  
  
"Get rid of the confounded Maximals! Why hasn't Inferno returned from the prison cell?"  
  
Grabbing her arm, Terrorsaur hauled her with him further down the dim corridor.  
  
"Why are you so intent on helping me," she demanded while running to keep pace with him.  
  
"Think of it as some form of repayment," he yelled over his shoulder, "besides, aren't you helping me in terminating Megatron?" She wasn't prepared for the directness of his question, but it was something that needed to be answered directly. No longer considering him as her mortal enemy, she reassessed his character according to recent events. [He is helping me, and his hatred towards Megatron doesn't seem false.]  
  
"I'll consider it," she finally answered to his moving back. Rapidly, he guided her around another network of corridors and cells, until a heavy duty escape hatch came into view before them.  
  
"We're outta here," exclaimed the Predacon, as he began turning the wheel-like seal that stood between her and liberation. The hiss of escaping gas signaled the hatch's release, as his powerful arms flexed to pull back the vaulted door. She should have been glad to see the outside world, it's refreshing air relieving her from the suppressive feeling that the Predacon base seemed to exude. But Maybelle found herself staring at the carnage that was currently occurring outside.  
  
Airazor and Cheetor, who had not noticed her, were firing their weapons at the base's gas lines in an attempt to blow an opening. The gas supply traveled systematically over the escape hatch, making her and Terrorsaur combustion material if they didn't high tail it out of there.  
  
"What are you waiting for," he screeched at her, "the opening's only big enough for one!" His well-built form was straining to keep the heavy-duty door open, it's titanium and steel bearing indicating it to be a door that wasn't supposed to be opened for lengthy periods. She attempted to keep the hatch open for him.  
  
"You come as well…"  
  
"Just go, GO!!!" He shoved roughly, causing her to barely squeeze through the narrow exit, its harsh edge scraping the coat off her paint job. Events flashed from her data tracks, it was like watching a replay of a long ago memory. That nanoclick seemed frozen in time, as the same familiar feelings of helplessness and dread she had long forgotten, returned to plague her senses. Once again, someone was sacrificing his own existence…for her survival.  
  
"Terrorsaur!" She leaped back to grab hold of his retracting arm. The metal hatch was threatening closure, with Terrorsaur's strength wearing down from extended exertion. He snatched his arm out of her grasp just before the hatch could close on it.  
  
"Don't worry, your Maximal buddies are coming," he reassured her simply, before the hatch sealed off entirely from her extended hand. Horrified, Maybelle was completely oblivious to Cheetor, who had spotted her silver form and dragged her away.  
  
"Nooo!!" She screamed, the harsh sound wearing away at her own vocal enhancers. [Why is this happening, why again?!]  
  
"Mabe, chill will ya! Everything's going to be fine now." He dragged her to safe ground, just as the prison wing of the Darkside exploded in a crimson display of flames. Cheetor busily contacted the other by comlink, while she stared at the blazing inferno, wondering how many pieces the red/silver Predacon would be in now. She sat unblinking, even when Optimus and Airazor joined them shortly.  
  
"Maybelle," the commander started, obviously relieved, "you alright?"  
  
[How can I be…]  
  
He took in her battered appearance, the soot staining her previously sparkling form colored her in shades of black and gray. Airazor, noticing her friend's bleak expression, wrapped her arms around the shaking Autobot. "It was risky for us to do a direct prison-raid, but Optimus knew we had to get you outta Pred hands no matter what. Then Silverbolt surprisingly came up with this perfectly laid out plan of how to proceed."  
  
"Thank you…all of…you!" Her voice shook like a wind-blown leaf, but the others assumed she was just still affected by her hectic experience.  
  
Their attention was directed from the battered Autobot though, when Tigatron hurried towards the accumulated circle with a half blown away arm. He wanted to report, but was stopped by Airazor who immediately rushed to assess his damages. The cables at the shoulder-socket were clearly visible, and he mentioned his entire arm was immobile.  
  
"Optimus, I believe you should call the others for a pull back now." He had noticed Maybelle in her disarrayed appearance, and figured the mission had been successful.  
  
"How was the situation on your front," questioned Optimus.  
  
"I was having trouble holding off Scorponok and Quickstrike. My drawback was only possible because Waspinator noticed a beat-up, but still functional Terrorsaur among some of the rubble and called for their assistance. With Terrorsaur also on their side, my odds would be heavily against me."  
  
Maybelle felt her fluid-pump skip a beat at the last statement. [H-he's… still functional??] The feeling could be compared to when one emerges from a perilous, closed off world where suffering was imminent and solitary. She didn't realize it had, but the news definitely relieved her from painful grief that caused her to suffer alone. Her own existence, again, felt justified.  
  
"Alright then, we're pulling out! Maximals, retreat!" Following the others at Optimus' command, Maybelle hesitated before taking off. The Darkside had been an appalling experience, but she went away with subtle thoughts of returning.  
  
"Hey come on," came the voice of Airazor, stirring her from the deep reverie, "we've got to get going, unless of course you want to stay a permanent resident of Pred territory." The Autobot femme laughed as the other converted to beast-mode and swooped off with a triumphant cry.  
  
[Yes…this unpredictable world.]  
  
She turned to watch the setting horizon in its spectacular display of gold, pink, and lavender hues. Before continuing to catch up to her comrades, she stared back penetratingly at the enemy haven she was relieved in more than one way to leave. Yet out of the corner of her optic, it may have been a playful hallucination of the mind, but she caught sight of what appeared to be a grand pterodactyl, that soared magnificently over the obscure expanse that was the Darkside.  
  
  
  
TBC. Whew! So that was "Long Forgotten", the first installment of my series.  
  
Hey, I'm cookin' my afterburner working on the second installment "The Ties Among Us" right now, where no doubt many things wait to be answered. 


End file.
